Blood and Iron (Kancolle)
by Firehouse 51
Summary: Humanity has been forced from the sea by the likes of an evil force known as the Abyssal, and its only hope rests in the form of Fleet Girls. But will these girls , the spirits of 20th Century warships, be able deal with both the stresses of their new existence and the memories of their last lives?
1. Chapter 1

**Wilmington, North Carolina  
May 11th, 2021**

"I'm sorry North." A raven-haired girl muttered, looking at the listing form of the Battleship USS North Carolina. At first glance the girl, who didn't look a day over 21, appeared to be no different from any of the hundreds of military personnel scrambling around the old ship or rebuilding the cofferdam that had once surrounded it. It was only upon closer inspection that things didn't add up. The rank insignia on her camouflage patterned NWU's cover belonged to that of a captain, a rank that someone as young as her wouldn't have, even given the losses suffered against the Abyssals. The other was the name on her jacket, or rather the number designation... BB-48.

USS West Virginia, the last of the Standard-type Battleships. When the Abyssals had first started preying on the ocean going vessels of the world, her sister Maryland and herself had been among the first of the American "Fleet Girls" to come back. Abyssals, one of the few things caused the normally stoic battleships blood to boil. No one, not even the other Fleet girls, knew exactly what they were. What was known was that they didn't show up on normal radar. This was something the US navy had learned the hard way, losing 8 carriers and scores of escorts holding the line against them. The only truly effective counters had been the fleet girls like her, and there simply weren't enough ships to go around.

That was the reason why she was here. There were various plans for the museum ships along the coasts, or at least for those not sunk in various attacks on the port cities. The Essex's and Midway, having long since lost the ability to launch aircraft or even sail under their own power, had been turned into Floating Firebases. Their flight decks, once crowded with aircraft, now acted as firing positions for M109 155mm howitzers and AN/TWQ-1 Avenger air defense weapons  
There was still debate over what to do with the remaining battleships. Missouri and Wisconsin had been lost during attacks on Pearl and Norfolk, a mistake on the Abyssal's part seeing as they were now Fleet Girls patrolling the Pacific Northwest and Panama Canal Zone respectively. In addition, Alabama and Texas were considered too damaged to even think of transporting thanks to a series of hurricanes the past few years. Of the few left there was still a debate over how to use them. Some favored restarting production on their barrels and shells, something West Virginia viewed as impractical. Others wanted to replace the main and secondary batteries with field artillery guns and Mk.45 5 inch mounts. Not that it mattered for North Carolina anymore.

In a way, she was lucky when the Abyssal submarine struck three days ago. They had been in the process of inspecting, and if possible, strengthening her hull for the eventual trip to Norfolk. In order to do this, they had constructed a cofferdam around her to make a kind of dry-dock. The dam had saved her from a quick death, the torpedo intended for her striking it instead. Unfortunately, the force of the explosion and the uncontrolled flooding the breach of the dam caused severe damage to her paper-thin hull. The general consensus was that she was a write off like 'Bama.

"Never had much luck with torpedoes." Virginia heard a voice behind her say. Turning around the battleship saw a woman around the same "age" as her towering over her. The stranger easily had her by a full foot in height, her lean frame dressed in the workmen's uniforms given to the various civilian contractors helping navy personnel assess the damage. Her blond hair was tied back in a ponytail under a blue and yellow bandana. "Carol Norman. I was told to bring you to the project head so he can explain what the damage is."

West Virginia was surprised that they had sent one of the civilian helpers to get her rather than an actual sailor, but figured that the project commander probably had more civilians under his command than actual military personnel. Despite what the PR department said, the old battleship rebuilds were pretty far down the priority list. Compared to the carriers there was no way to get a quick return on anything they did to the old boats. "How bad is it?" She asked as they made their way to the command post.

Carol just shook her head. "Commander Fisher can give you a more detailed report, but it's not good. Between the explosion itself, parts of the dam, and the force of the water... well the best description I can give is of someone shooting a Tommy gun at a car door." The contractor said rubbing her side. "I know I should consider myself lucky that the dam was there but..." She stopped, as if realizing what she had said. "Sorry, it's just that my dad was a tour guide here. I practically grew up on her. Seeing her like this makes me feel like a part of me died."

"I understand," the old standard said as they reached the trailer being used for the restorations command post. "It's hard looking at my little cousin in this state. She may have been my better in almost every way, but part of me still felt the need to protect her and the other Fast Battleships."

The inside of the command center could best be described as controlled chaos. Technicians working on rows of computer monitors operating dozens of remote submersibles were assessing the damage to North Carolina's hull. Carol broke off from West Virginia in order to look at one of the monitors, pointing out damage to its relatively young operator. Virginia made her way over to where Commander Fisher was reviewing the damage photos taken by the submersibles. The 40 year old man with jet black hair and green eyes was so focused on the pictures that he didn't notice the battleship until she was looking over his shoulder.

"Morning captain." He said, his eyes never leaving the table. "I suppose the Navy wants to know if we can still salvage her?"

"Yes. "The Battleship replied, her face and manner all business. "Though if those photos are anything to go by I doubt that's the case." The photos in question did not paint a pretty picture. North's hull was a patchwork of metal sprinkled with gaping holes and buckled plates. To West Virginia the damage reminded her of what her hull had looked like after taking 6 torpedoes during the Pearl Harbor attack. The only difference was that West Virginia had an armor scheme designed to soak up torpedo damage. North's torpedo protection had been subpar even during her prime. After 80 years of sitting in salt water her hull was barely fit to stop a rifle round, let alone several hundred pounds of explosives going off nearby.

"For the time and money it would take, we might as well build a new Battleship." The commander added. "Still, what I wouldn't have given to see her sail up to an Abyssal at 27 knots, unloading 16 inch hell on those things."

"25 sir." Virginia heard Carol say. "Sailing any faster than that created one hell of a vibration that made firing the guns a crapshoot. Even with all the testing and redesigns they put us through, the navy never managed to completely fix that problem. Not that it hurt Wash all that much. Still would have been nice for one last dance."

The fact that "Carol" had once again acted like the hull was part of herself hadn't been missed by West Virginia. "How long has miss Bailey been here?" She asked Commander Fisher, making sure Carol couldn't hear her.

"About three days." The commander said absent-mindedly. "We recruited her because she knows the ship like the back of her hand and treats the hull like it's a part of herself." Fisher train of thought stopped dead in its tracks as he realized what he had just said. "You don't thinks she's..."

"I can't be sure, but I have a good way of finding out." Virginia said before turning back to Carol. "I know the feeling. My sisters and myself were pretty pissed that the carriers stole the glory of sinking the Yamato out from under us." It was the perfect bait. The American plan to oppose Operation Ten-ichi-go was a point of contention between the Fast Battleships, who thought The Standards were going to be sacrificed to protect them, and West Virginia and Maryland, who thought the others were babying them like the rest of the fleet did after what happened at Pearl.

"You guys got lucky Mitscher decided to jump the gun with that air attack. You guys wouldn't have stood a chance against the Yamato." Carol said without missing a beat.

"I doubt that." West Virginia said, pressing the issue. "We had no problem dealing with Yamashiro during the Battle of Surigao Strait."

"Wee Vee," Caroline said, using the old battleships nickname for the first time. "Yamashiro was a World War 1 era battlewagon obsolete even compared to your pre-pearl hull that wandered blindly into your guns. Yamato not only out-gunned all of you, but also had better armor, better fire control with the exception of yourself, and outfitted with radar. Meaning she would have seen you coming well before you could fire and could engage anyone of you with near impunity. Had Spruance actually thought for 5 seconds, he would have let the carriers take the first swing at her and left clean up to the Iowa's and South Dakota's rather than leave you to be slaughtered."

The room went silent after that, all eyes turned toward Carol. Her workmen's uniform was gone, replaced by a deerskin coat, pants, and boots. On her chest was a pair of flintlock pistols, with another on her back. Her ponytail poked out from beneath a black felt wide rimed hat. Looking down at herself the girl took a second to regain her composure. "USS North Carolina, BB-55, reporting for duty."

"Gentlemen, could you kindly give the ladies in the room a bit of privacy?" West Virginia asked, the ice cold tone in her voice making it clear this wasn't a polite request. As the men began to file out her NWU shimmered and changed, replaced with the Prussian Blue coat, sky blue trousers, and black shoes of a Union Infantryman. Two Colt 1860 Army Revolvers hung from her hips with two more tucked into shoulder holsters. The second the door closed her gaze returned to the newly found battleship standing in front of her. "North, you've been her for at least three days, going by what Commander Fisher said. Why have you been hiding out here?"

North simply looked at the floor. "When I first came back that night I couldn't accept that my old hull was gone. I figured that if anyone could help get my body back up and running, who better then someone for whom it literally was the back of her hand. So I disguised myself as one of the workers trying to fix her in order to help out. As the day went on I heard some of the other worker talking about how it was a good thing the spirit me hadn't shown up yet like with Mo and Wisky, because that meant the hull was a write off. I thought that if I gave them a few more days to work on it they would think of something."

West Virginia went to comfort her "little" cousin, who was on the verge of tears, but restrained herself. The fast battleship needed more than empty words from someone who didn't understand or know what it was like to suddenly be without a hull after decades of having one. She had lost her body back in '59, having been forced to accept the slow death as her was turned into razor blades and plow shears. The next 6 decades had been spent "floating" in a sea of nothing until she felt the call to protect her country again. "Trust me North, you'll be much more useful in this form then with your old hull."

"Is that how bad off we are?" North Carolina asked.

West Virginia was surprised by the question. She figured North had heard the rumors in her three day she had been working on her old hull. "We got hit bad North. 8 of our 11 carriers are at the bottom of the ocean, and 2 of the remaining 3 are in dry-docking for at least 6 months. At least 60 % of our remaining fleet is either sunk or in dry-dock as well. As for Fleet Girls like you and me, it's not much better. We have Lady Lex and Sister Sara on the East Coast supported by my sister Maryland and myself, Cruisers Baltimore, Boston, Brooklyn, Boise, Little Rock and Galveston, and 20 Destroyers. The west coast is a mess though. USS Hornet, CV-8, and USS Bunker Hill are the carriers assigned to it with Battleships USS Missouri and USS Wisconsin, Heavy Cruisers USS Northampton, Augusta, New Orleans, Canberra, and Toledo, Light Cruiser Helena, and 20 Destroyers. It's not so bad on the East Coast with the Brits in Halifax helping, but we're by ourselves on the west coast stuck covering from Vancouver to Panama with a force half the size of what we had after the Pearl harbor attack. We're barely holding Pearl as it is right now, and I suspect that's where you're going to be sent. Between the Brits, the Germans and Frenchies when everyone agrees to play nice, and what we have the Atlantic is at least somewhat contained. They need a fast battleship more over there."

"So now what?" North Carolina shakily asked.

Wee Vee smiled. "Just follow me to the car that brought me here and I'll explain the rest on the way back to Norfolk. "


	2. Chapter 2

News of the navy's newest acquisition had spread quickly. West Virginia had made the call into Atlantic Fleet Command while North was retrieving what meager belongings she had managed to collect in her three days back and saying her final goodbyes. It was clear to anyone that the fast battleship didn't like the idea of leaving her old hull behind, but that was a common attitude with returned museum ships, as more than one person had found out the hard way. Even the normally timid Wisconsin was known for ability to make anything or anyone fly at the mere mention of the sorry state of her hull. In all, it had only taken 10 minutes or so for Wee Vee to move North into the Oshkosh L-ATV she was using for transport.

"Corporal," she said getting into the back of the Humvee replacement. "We need to head back to Norfolk as soon as possible."

"No can do ma'am." The driver replied almost immediately. "Orders from up top. I'm to drive you to Pope's AFB in Charlotte."

"From the Pentagon?" West Virginia said, a little irritation evident in her voice. She knew where this was going. Pope's Air Force Base was home to the 145th Airlift Wing, operating C-130's. If they were lucky North would be heading for Seattle, Washington to train under Missouri for a few weeks before heading to Pearl. Wee Vee knew they wouldn't let her train North. Even if she was slower than the Iowa's, North Carolina's 27-knot top speed was almost 25% faster than her top speed of 21 knots. Add to that the vast differences in firepower, fire control, and other aspects, and it was clear that the standard could only teach her the very basics. She had just hoped North would get a few days to get use to actual military life before getting thrown into the meat grinder.

"Yes m'am. In fact, there's someone on the line who wants to talk to you guys." A 16 in screen popped out from the ceiling of the vehicle. On the screen was a woman who looked to be about 40-45 years of age, her sandy brown hair streaked with grey and her sea green eyes dulled from age. She was dressed in a set of officers dress blues with a Rear Admiral's stars on her shoulders.

USS South Carolina, the first of the American Dreadnoughts. She had arrived on the same day as West Virginia and Maryland, and like them immediately pressed in the service. Unlike her daughters, who while not best battleships could still hit just as hard if not harder than their Abyssal foes, the old battlewagon found herself outgunned, out-maneuvered, and outclassed by the abyssal battleships and barely better than their heavy cruisers. As such, despite the immense shortage of Fleet Girls, she was pulled of the line as soon as Missouri and Wisconsin were ready for action. More or less retired from active service, she was made the Fleet Girl liaison to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. "Hello Wee Vee, it's so good to see you." She said, her voice one of a mother who missed her daughter. "And you must be North Carolina. We Vee told me all about you when we first came back."

"I'm sorry ma'am." North said shifting in her seat. "I honestly have no idea who you are. Did you serve in Task force 54 with West Virginia?"

"North," West Virginia said angrily. "That's our mom, how can you not remember her?"

"Now now, Wee Vee," the old dreadnought chastised the younger standard." You were only an unfinished hull when I was scrapped and North was built 20 years after you. She never even got to meet your Aunt Utah, much less me."

"Wait... Utah was your aunt?" North asked, turning to West Virginia. "They way you always talked of her I thought she was your mom." She could hear South Carolina laughing over the TV screen.

"You two are just adorable." She says as both of her daughters turn bright red. "No North, my younger sister did an excellent job filling for me after I was scrapped but even little Wee Vee will tell you it wasn't the same. I suppose we should get down to business though. North Carolina, let me first welcome you back to the United States Navy. You are to report to Pope's Air Force Base where a C-130 will take you to your assigned station at Joint Base Pearl Harbor–Hickam."

"Pearl Harbor?" West Virginia blurted out, the shock rather evident in her voice. "I know I can't train her myself, but she needs to spend at least a week or two with Missouri or Wisconsin to mentor her, not an immediate combat posting where she'll be thrown to the wolves."

"As much as I wish we could do that, we don't have two weeks to wait for North Carolina to gain experience." South retorted. "We are barely holding the west coast as it is, and if we lose Hawaii we lose our supply line to and from Australia."

"So send one of us to cover it while North gets some training."

"Guys..." North tried cutting in.

"We can't Wee Vee, you and Mary are needed to keep the convoy route free on our end, Missouri is covering the supply line from Alaska to the continental US while the pipelines being built, and without Wisconsin we lose the Panama Canal." South said, the anger building in her voice. "Besides she won't be alone at Pearl. Command has given me permission to transfer there in order to train North Carolina."

"And I'm sure you'll only be cheering from the sidelines." West Virginia said rolling her eyes. "South, Mary and I didn't push for you to be assigned to The Pentagon after what happened in Roanoke only for you to use someone else to get back to the front where you'll only get yourself killed."

"You really don't need to fight over this..." North said in a rather meek voice before getting cut off by South Carolina.

"USS WEST VIRGINIA!" her voice roared through the speakers, causing even the driver to flinch. "Do not ever accuse me of using one of my daughters for my own personnel gain. This plan was put in place after Missouri and Wisconsin came back over 6 months ago. I had nothing to do with it. Now, North Carolina is going to Pearl with me, and you are heading back to Norfolk on the plane that carried me to Pope. End. Of. Discussion." With that the screen went black.

"You heard her corporal." Wee Vee said. "Pope Air Force Base, on the jump."


	3. Chapter 3

If North Carolina needed an example of how serious the situation was, San Diego provided it. In her three days back working on her old hull, the first thing she had noticed was how light the defenses were, consisting of only a single battery of M777 howitzers with a couple of Avenger air defense missile systems. Pope wasn't much better, but had the excuse of being much farther inland.

San Diego though was a completely different story. They had stopped at Naval Air Station North Island to refuel the C-130 and both North and South had taken the opportunity to stretch their legs. They had managed to find a nice spot to survey the city and its defenses. The harbor seemed to be completely ringed by M777 towed artillery guns, M109 Paladins, and MRLS missile units. USS Midway stood vigil over her homeport once again, the aircraft that had once graced her deck replaced with artillery pieces and surface to air missile sites like her smaller Essex Class cousins. The reason for all this was apparent inside the harbor. The dry docks were filled with what was left of the United States Navy, destroyers and cruisers with hulls torn and bridges smashed. To North, the scene was eerily reminiscent of Pearl during the last war.

"Bringing back memories?" South Carolina asked. The two hadn't talked all that much on the flight in, South having fallen asleep almost as soon as they had taken off.

"That and well…" Carolina sighed. "Even back in '41 after Pearl we weren't as bad off as what Wee Vee described. Despite the loss of Battleship Row, we still had 7 carriers and 4 battleships with my sister and myself almost complete, and we only needed to really worry about one ocean, despite what the Brits might have thought. Now we have even less to cover both coasts, Panama, and the Caribbean."

South Carolina nodded. "I know how it feels. Back when Mary, Wee Vee, and myself first came back, we were racing up and down the East Coast after they pulled almost the entire Atlantic fleet over to the Pacific to replace loses sustained there."

"So how did it happen?" North asked. "We had bases and fleets all over the world. More carriers then the rest of the world combined, and if everything I heard the guides say about them was true, each had more fire power then most small nations' entire militaries."

"All of which was tied to radar systems." South responded. The two had started heading back to the plane, which would take them to Joint Base Pearl Harbor–Hickam. "These things we're fighting, they seem to be based off of our new Zumwalt class destroyers, except they're even better at not appearing on radar. Our ships didn't have clue they were there until there within visual range, and by then it was to late. The only thing keeping our ports and coasts protected are the Fleet Girls like you and me, and the fact that most other targeting systems are still working against them. See those hangers over there?" She said pointing to a group of hangers, each guarded by at least 2 Avenger systems with additional MANPAD teams on their roofs. "Ark Light flights, B-1 Lancers from the 37th bomber Squadron. The only thing keeping Pearl open even though the largest Fleet Girls are covering the west coast. Hopefully we won't have to rely on them as often now that you'll be there."

The two stepped aboard the transport, the ramp closing behind them. North moved back to the seat she had been in on the first leg, with South switching to the seat next to her. "I figure I'll be with you for at least the first two weeks there, a month tops. I'll be serving as your training officer, as well as the temporary secretary ship to Admiral Enfield. Don't worry though; I won't be sailing with you in combat unless it's absolutely necessary. "

North Carolina breathed a sigh of relief after that last part. Before they had departed, West Virginia had made her promise to keep South out of the fight.

"Wee Vee made you promise to keep me safe?" South asked. North simply nodded. "I figured as much. Her and her sister were very adamant that I be removed from the line as soon as Wisky and Mo were ready."

"Because of Roanoke? I heard West Virginia mention that name."

South Carolina nodded. "It's a bit of a misnomer. We were off the coast of North Carolina, outside the Outer Banks near Bodie Island. I was escorting a convoy when a pair of battleships jumped us. Had Wee Vee and Mary been even a few minutes later to our assigned rendezvous point, I doubt I would have survived the fight."

"H-how..."

How bad?" South finished for her daughter. "I honestly don't know. One of the first shells to hit ripped my superstructure apart. I woke up a month later in dry-dock. Mary and Wee Vee never told me the extent of my injuries, but you've seen how my daughter acted upon hearing that I was headed to Pearl."

North nodded. "So how bad off is Pearl?"

-

"Well I suppose it's better than nothing." USS The Sullivans said looking at the message. "I would have preferred one of the Iowa's or a carrier though," she continued, doing her best to stifle a yawn.

"We take what we can get." Admiral Chris Enfield replied. The message had come into Pearl a few hours before. "Besides, we're also getting South Carolina, so in addition to a battleship, you get a couple weeks where you're not having to cover both your regular patrol and that mountain of paperwork."

"I don't suppose we can keep both?" The short brown haired destroyer jokingly asked.

"No sadly, but hopefully we get someone soon who will be able to deal with all the weird stuff you girls do. I doubt we'll get lucky enough for that though." Enfield said.

"So when?" Sullivan began before a yawn cut her off.

"Four hours from now." Enfield finished. "Plenty of time for you to get some shut eye."

"I don't need it." The destroyer tried to protest.

"You do Sully. You've been working 13 hours straight. Get some rest." Enfield ordered. Rather begrudgingly Sullivan shuffled out of the room.

Enfield sat down at his desk after the door closed behind her. He hated how much he had to push the girls under his command, Sullivan even more so. He knew he really didn't have a choice though. These girls, and a handful of bombers, were the only things keeping Pearl in American hands. There was also so many unknowns about them that it was easier having a Fleet Girl handle most of the day to day paper work concerning them than it was having a human make heads or tails of it.

Didn't mean it hurts any less.


	4. Chapter 4

Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam, once the crown jewel of the Pacific fleet, looked and felt more like a ghost town as Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Chris Enfield's SUV drove through it. After the disaster that had been the First Battle of Midway 6 months ago, most non-military personnel had voluntarily evacuated the base. In fact, the only reason his wife was still on base was because of her role in taking care of the Navy's newest assets. No one had expected Pearl to hold out as long as it had, and if it hadn't been for The Fleet Girls, it likely wouldn't have. While the blow to morale this caused had been somewhat softened thanks to communication systems like Skype and the wide spread use of smart phones, it didn't take an ONI analyst to figure out it was near rock bottom for base personnel.

As much as no one wanted to admit it, of the 4 naval station left on the Pacific coast, Pearl was the most expendable. San Diego was the heart of the fleet, and if lost meant not only the complete cut off of important supplies to both Hawaii and Alaskan oil via Seattle, but also the destruction of a good portion of the remainder of the 'Human" navy. Losing Panama would mean the crippling of operations across the Coast. Pearl, whose main contributions were to the supply line to Australia and as a layer of defense before San Diego, seemed to pale in comparison to those three. It was probably why his command was the smallest in both regular and Fleet Girl assets.

Crossing The Ford Island Bridge, he laid his eyes on the former part of that command, or what was left of it. What had once been a force of 2 Ticonderoga class Missile Cruisers and 9 Destroyers was now reduced to one of the former, USS Lake Erie, 3 Arleigh Burke class destroyers and 1 Zumwalt class Destroyer, USS Cassin Young. Until news of North Carolina's (BB-55) arrival and pending assignment under his command had reached him, Cassin had been his ace in the hole, ship-wise. Between its rail gun and reduced radar signature, Cassin, the last of the six ships of her class, had proven remarkably well at engaging Abyssals on their terms and hitting well above their displacement.

His submarines had faired only mildly better. While the majority of the base's 20 Los Angeles and Virginia class subs had survived, their crews had needed to relearn tactics and methods declared obsolete over a half century before. In addition, it had been found that the Mk.48 torpedo needed a complete remodeling, which was going to take months if not years to do so.

Hickam Air Force base had seen the biggest changes of all. With most of the Islands air units transferred back to Wheeler, only one of the runways was still in use, and that was mainly for Reaper Drones. The outer most runway had been turned into an artificial concrete-reinforced hill housing a battery of M777's as well as a 155mm Advanced Gun System salvaged from one of the two Zumwalts lost during a bomber attack 3 months before. In addition, a rail gun salvaged from the other sat across the entrance at Iroquois Point. Most of the other airports in Hawaii, having been "borrowed" by the military, were undergoing similar renovations or being used as bases for various strike, fighter, or reconnaissance aircraft.

The C-130 that was supposed to be carrying the Carolinas was just rolling into the old Hawaii Air National Guard hanger when his ride pulled up. South Carolina was easy for him to recognize, the two have seen each other at many a meeting. Not that North Carolina was hard to spot either, her rather out of place clothing causing her to stick out like a sore thumb.

"Afternoon Ladies." He said walking up to them. "I trust the plane ride was enjoyable."

"Better than most." South Carolina said. North Simply fired off a salute that Admiral Enfield immediately returned.

"At ease North Carolina." Admiral Enfield said. "You ladies probably want to get back to the Island. North Carolina, we'll drop you off at the barracks so you can get settled while me and South Carolina finalize some things. The two battleships simply nodded as they entered the back of the vehicle.

Sleep did not come easy for the Fletcher Class destroyer USS The Sullivans. Even as tired as she was, the destroyer couldn't manage more than an hour's rest before inevitably being jolted awake by the same nightmare. After the third such attempt she gave up, taking a shower to wash away the layer of sweat that now drenched her and changing into a new set of NWU's. She then made way to the dining room on the first floor, where their caretaker, a Mrs. Elizabeth Enfield, was reading a book. The former shrink, who now helped her husband's new command in both getting adjusted to their new world and with dealing with issues stemming from their past lives, looked up at her as she entered the room.

"Trouble sleeping Sully?" she asked.

Sullivan's nodded. "It's the nightmares again."

"Lake Ontario?" Elizabeth asked with a frown. It was an all too common problem for these girls, especially those sunk in combat. As far as she knew, every Fleet Girl she had run into, outside The Taffies, had told her about it at least once.

Sullivan's simply nodded again. "You don't think they mean anything do you?"

"It's hard to know Sully." Elizabeth said getting up and given the destroyer a much needed hug. "Dreams embody a lot of things. Hopes, wishes, fears… these can all affect what we dream about. How about you talk to me again in a couple of days after you've had a chance to clear your head, now that you won't be doing both my husband's work on top of your normal patrols? Now, we have a new couple of new guests, maybe you could be a dear and help me get their rooms ready, seeing as your sisters and the Northampton's are nowhere to be found."

It wasn't until they were almost to the Barracks at the Navy Lodge on Ford Island before North spoke up. "I hope you don't mind settling for me. I'm sure you need something better then a treaty battleship."

From the front seat Admiral Enfield just chuckled. "With all due respect North, a treaty battleship isn't settling. Especially one from the class regarded as the best treaty ships ever made." He said as the SUV slowed to a stop in front of the lodge. As they pulled up to the front, he saw his wife and Sully standing by the door. Seeing the later caused him to frown a little, he had been hoping that she was finally getting some much-needed rest. Getting out he opened the rear door. "North Carolina, South Carolina, meet my wife Dr. Elizabeth Enfield and destroyer USS The Sullivans, DD-537. North, I'll leave you under their care for now. A car will be around in a few hours to take you and the rest of the girls to dinner at the chow hall in our HQ. I know you don't have much with you so you'll find a couple sets of NWU's in your room. We'll get rank and name patches sorted out later."

"Rank?" North Carolina asked.

"Didn't South tell you? Upon finishing your training, you'll be awarded the rank of commander." As if on cue Sullivan snapped to attention, firing off a picture-perfect salute. North could see the brown haired girl, who looked no more than 16 at the most, held the rank of Lieutenant Commander. North returned the salute before following her and Mrs. Enfield into the building.

"Still getting use to all this ma'am?" The destroyer asked as they walked through the former lobby. The lodge had been chosen as a barracks because of several reasons. It was close to the command building at the Ford Island Conference Center, as well as secluded enough to give the girls a bit of privacy. In addition, the navy felt that the historic significance of the island might make the Fleet girls a little more comfortable.

"Yes." North answered. "And please stop calling me ma'am. Its North Carolina, or North. I'm not all that comfortable with being immediately made a commander."

"Orders of the Navy." Mrs. Enfield replied, a slight distain in her voice. "Battleships and Aircraft carriers start at Commander, Cruisers at Lieutenant Commander, and Destroyers at Lieutenant Senior Grade. They figure that you girls would have a better understanding of how to run things given that you were former command ships."

"I'm sure you'll do fine." Sullivan's added. "You can't be any worse than the Northampton's."

Before either North or Elizabeth could respond, the door behind them opened. In walked two girls, both about 19 years of age. The first had strawberry blond hair and brown eyes. "This the new girl?" she asked with a New England accent.

"This 'new girl'," Sully began looking rather irritated. ", Is the battleship USS North Carolina, first ship of her class. Show a little respect you two."

"North Carolina…" the other, a fiery redhead who spoke with a southern accent said. "Would have preferred a South Dakota, but any port in a storm."

"Ignore her." The first one said. "The names Northampton, first of my class as well. The one who doesn't know what a good battleship looks like is my little sister Augusta. You'll have to excuse her though. She spent the entire war with Pre-Standard's and Brit ships, so anything with 16's will do for her."

"The South Dakota's are better." Augusta shot back. "Not my fault you never got to see one in action."

"You're right." Northampton replied. "All I remember is hearing about South Dakota getting her teeth kicked in by a battlecruiser pretending to be battleship while North's sister took care of business."

"Girls." Mrs. Enfield cut-in. "Maybe you can take this debate elsewhere. North's still getting use to all this."

"Sure thing Mrs. E." Augusta said shepherding her to the elevator. Their argument still audible until the door closed behind them.

The trio made their way up the stairs to the first floor, where North's room was. It wasn't much, consisting of a queen-sized bed with Navy blue sheets and a connected bathroom. True to the admiral's word, three sets of Navy Work Uniforms, roughly North's size, sat on the bed.

"We'll give you an hour to freshen up." Mrs. Enfield said. "It sounds like you've had quite the day."

"So how long do you think it'll take to get North up to speed." Admiral Enfield asked. He and South were in the newly completed USN Fleet Girl command Bunker. Built to survive almost anything, the structure served as the control point to all forces located in the Hawaiian Islands.

"It should only be two weeks at most until she can act as a field commander." South replied. "I know you were hoping for me to say days rather than weeks, but I want to be sure I do this right. She'll still be able to fight in a few days, you'll just have to leave the Northamptons in command for the time being."

"I still don't like is. The Northamptons are overly aggressive. They like to close and close fast. I know North's designed to be a better distance fighter rather than a close in brawler. We'll probably need to write up some new formations and tactics." Enfield concluded. "Sorry, if I'm pushing a lot on you. Its just Sully could use the break."

"Compared to the Joint Chiefs, this is nothing." South Carolina replied. "Besides I have a lot more free time compared to Sullivan. I still don't understand why you're leaning on her so much."

"You have looked at our roster, right?" Enfield said in a rather shocked tone. "Speaking of which. You might want to switch out of that uniform before we eat. Tonight's spaghetti dinner, and things tend to get a little messy when the taffies are involved."

"It's only three destroyers." South Carolina replied jokingly. "How hard can it be to manage them?"

 **Several Hours Later**

The answer turned out to be harder than expected. Both North Carolina and South Carolina had foolishly sat with their backs facing the serving line. As such they never saw the three Fletcher class destroyers collectively known as the Taffies disappear behind it, snickering all the way. Neither did they seem to notice both Northampton and Augusta vacate the seats on either side of them like they were a pair of ammunition barges that had just caught fire. By the time Sullivan's warning found their ears, it was already too late.

"Don't you dare!" was all they heard her say before a tidal wave of spaghetti fell over them. Brushing pasta and red sauce out of her eyes South turned around to the three destroyers holding now-empty buckets.

"Welcome to Pearl!" The three girls said in unison. "Normally we use water for that." Hoel said between giggling fits, her chocolate colored pigtails bounce ever so slightly.

"But with it being Spaghetti night and all, we just couldn't resist." Johnston added. Spaghetti sauce decorated blond haired destroyers face like war paint, though the effect was lost because of the grin spreading across her face.

"Well maybe you should have given that they're your commanding officers." Sullivans said in a clearly aggravated tone. Admiral Enfield stood next to her, a look on his face that show disapproval for what the Taffies had done, yet betrayed just a hint of a grin. His wife did her best to suppress a giggle while The Northamptons were in the midst of a full on laughing fit.

"Come on Sully." The amber haired USS Heerman said. "It's not like we're hurting anything. What's wrong with a little fun and team bonding?"

Before she could respond, Sully was cut off by South's laughter. "Don't worry Sully," she said. "I appreciate the welcome."

"Same here." North said, pasta sauce dripping down her now-red hair and face. "Besides I'm sure South wouldn't mind a few helpers to clean this mess up."

Heerman froze in her tracks at the last part, looking at the spaghetti covered table and floor. "She wouldn't…" was all that could be said before she felt South's hands on her shoulder.

"Want to bet?" The old Dreadnought said with a rather scary looking grin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Joint Base Pearl Harbor–Hickam, Hawaii  
April 21st, 2021**

The sound of 9 Mk.6 sixteen-inch rifles unloading their deadly payload filled the early morning air off of Iroquois Point. The area, already home to numerous spotter positions and various optics used for directing and coordinating the fire from various gun emplacements and artillery batteries on the island, made for a natural practice range for the Fleet Girls based in Pearl. Away from the point floated life-sized models of the various abyssal craft. Capable of simulating entire fleets at various ranges, these wooden constructs were nearly identical to the real thing, with the only difference being the orange paint scheme applied to keep sentries and other base personnel from calling in false attacks.

"Come on, come on." US North Carolina said as she waited for her shots to land as she watched the targets sitting 30,000 yards away with her main optics. Seconds later the training shells hit home, most of them splashing harmlessly in the water except for 2 that punched holes in the Battleship in the middle of the formation.

The routine had been the same for the past 9 days. Mornings were spent learning under the instruction of South Carolina on moving and shooting in her new rigging, with lectures by Admiral Enfield on naval tactics and strategy in the afternoon. While she was adapting well to her new body and rigging, she had a much easier time with the lectures then the training. She had never been a command ship, at least not in battle, but the tactics and strategies of her day were far more familiar to her then the idea of sailing and shooting without her old body.

It was still very strange to say the least. What used to take hundreds of thousands, if not multi-millions, of dollars' worth of equipment was now being done with mere human senses. Just by squinting she could see as far as her old rangefinders use to, and when she closed them it was like watching her old radar screen. She could also do a similar trick using her floatplanes. The weirdest thing though, was her radio room hidden somewhere in her head, or at least she thought was in her head. Even without the headset South wore, she heard the command center or other Fleet Girls clear as day regardless of where she was in relation to them.

The biggest change though was in sailing. Where she used to be pushed by 4 propellers powered by 8 boilers, now she skated along the water as if it was iced over. She could still make 27 knots, but even in this form her old problems still persisted. An almost unbearable shaking formed in her legs when she made it past 25 knots that felt like her whole lower body was shaking itself apart. In addition, it made even her radar directed gunnery nothing more than high tech spray and pray shooting. As it was, she was barely sailing faster than 10 knots this training exercise, trading speed for accuracy.

"Nice." North said with a smirk as she watched the results.

"Indeed." South said putting down her binoculars. Because she had never been designed or modified for long distance engagements, the old dreadnought didn't have the optics of her daughter. "You've improved quite a bit since we began, and two hits on a single salvo is quite impressive, if a bit lucky."

North nodded in agreement. What had used to take 5 to 6 salvos to achieve she was now regularly doing in 3. She also knew that it wasn't likely to get any better than that at this range. While radar fire directors could cut down on the time it took for her to get on target, they could do nothing for shell dispersion. Even the Iowa siblings were lucky to get more than 1 shell on target past 25,000 yards.

"Now let's see about those hits…" South said picking up the binoculars once again. "That hit under turret number 3 wouldn't cause much damage. There's just enough of a belt on these things to stop your round from penetrating but we're talking about mere millimeters." North's frown increased just a smidge more at that news. "The second round though, the one in the coning tower, that would be a game changer for you. With that hit you most likely temporarily disabled its steering as well as knocked out its main rangefinder. With the turrets reduced to local control, it's going to have a hard time bracketing you if it hasn't already done so."

"So easy prey then." North said, her voice sounding rather satisfied with herself.

"There's a difference between wounded and dead." South chided her, her voice back to that of a teacher lecturing her student. "While it may not be able to hit you as well, those punches will still hurt just as much if they connect. Remember that the battleship those things seem to borrow their characteristics from was the one your sister and yourself were specifically designed to counter, and I can speak from experience that they can hurt you just as bad as you can hurt them. Always remember that."

She watched as her daughter's head dipped down a bit after the reprimand and repressed a smile. It wasn't that she liked chastising her daughter, but rather the effect that tone seemed to have on her that made the old dreadnought want to smile. She hated yelling at her daughter, but knew how necessary it was to break that slight invincible feeling she knew the battleship had. It was that same streak she had once had, and one that had almost gotten her killed. "Why don't we reset? See if we can't kill that thing this time."

"Nice shot." Admiral Enfield heard as he watched North's practice session with the rest of the on-duty personnel in the command center. The feed, provided by one of the MQ-9's flown out of Hickam AFB, was one of several whose camera feeds the two technicians could pull up.

The one they were currently watching had taken off shortly after the two battleships had set sail, part of a standing Department of Defense order to always have some type of surveillance on them when they were in the water. Officially the order was so that the military would be able to send immediate help in the event one of the Fleet Girls were seriously damaged in combat or was jumped by abyssal forces well on patrol, but most of the admirals in charge of them chalked it up as much to the paranoia that the dozen or so alphabet soup intelligence agencies seemed to run on as they did to any genuine concern for the girl's safety.

He understood why though. Had anyone told him a year ago that he would be commanding teenage girls that were the spirits of warships, he would have had them in front of a psychiatrist before they could complete the sentence because of how absurd that sounded. These girls had taken the world by surprise even more so then their enemy had, and after what had happened in Australia with Astoria, Quincy, and Vincennes, the navy had reason to worry about other Fleet Girls possibly motivated by bad blood from the past.

"I think she's ready." He heard another, a kid fresh out of Annapolis named Eric Stone, say.

"And not a moment too soon." He said in agreement. As good as Northampton and Augusta were, they were still only heavy cruisers, ones that were Washington Naval Treaty compliant to make matters even worse. While the two might have relished every chance to fight, he knew that every time he had sent them out against any meaningful force he had been rolling the dice. It was only luck that had kept his command from being gutted.

To make matters worse, a convoy carrying spare parts for Australia's remaining F-35's was due to pass to the south of the island chain later that day. Convoys like these were normally defended by a handful of US and Australian Destroyer Class Fleet Girls, with maybe a cruiser or two if the cargo was extremely valuable like this one, were in constant danger. In fact, Pearl's most important use was a Quick Reaction Force along the supply route.

The technician next to him suddenly put his hand up to the headset he was wearing. "Hickam's reporting that Sentinel 5's spotted an enemy fleet south of Midway." He said moments later. "Pulling up the feed now."

Even before the video feed came up Enfield knew this would be a problem. The atoll had gone dark after three carrier groups had been slaughtered near it 6 months ago. Ever since it had been a thorn in his side, a major staging point for both attacks on convoys and on Pearl itself. Whatever The Abyssals were sending his way; it would likely be a hell of a fight even with North Carolina in the mix.

The video feed that came up on screen simply confirmed his fears. The drone was circling at over 40,000 feet to avoid the worst of the anti-aircraft fire heading its way, its camera trained on the battleship, a pair of light cruisers and four destroyers acting as escorts. Judging by their wakes the seven ships were making 15 knots max, slow enough for the destroyer's sonar arrays to keep an eye on any of his subs that might be prowling the area.

"What does the convoy have protecting it?" Enfield asked.

"A pair of Fletchers with HMNZS Achilles and a pair of N-class destroyers backing them up." A tech said, pulling the information up. Around the room other personnel were issuing recall orders to The Carolinas and other Fleet Girls at sea, while more were gathering intelligence for the inevitable briefing. Enfield hoped North was as ready as she looked in training.

They were going to need all the help they could get.


	6. Chapter 6

USS South Carolina sighed as the emergency recall order came through her headset. If both North and herself were being ordered back in, something big was going down. They had been out on the range before when more routine operations had been sent out. They had only been ordered to cease fire in those cases, watching as one of the Northamptons and their escorts could head out to where they were needed. This was different though. If they we being called back in, it was because they were needed, or rather North Carolina was needed.

As time was of the essence, South knew they would need to dock near the command center. South had avoided that area like the plague, preferring to launch at the southernmost tip of Ford Island. It was because this was where Battleship Row had once docked. Where the graves of two of her daughters now sat, reminding her of her failures as a mother to protect them.

Before her, the overturned hull of USS Missouri lay, an almost exact likeness to her older cousin Oklahoma after that fateful attack nearly 80 years before. Like the second of the standards, she had been felled by a torpedos, four fired into her port side by a submarine that had infiltrated the harbor less than two months after South had comeback into this world. The submarine had not had long to relish its victory, slain by The Taffies before it had even made it to the harbor entrance. Neither this nor the news of Missouri's return as a fleet girl hours later had comforted South when she had heard about what had happened in Hawaii.

Only a hundred feet away stood the memorial to USS Arizona, slain in her sleep on the morning of December 7th, 1941. Like with Missouri, South had been powerless to stop it. She hadn't even been alive when the bombs and torpedo's fell on her daughters that day, turned to razorblades over 15 years before as part of the Washington naval treaty.

Sometimes she wondered if Arizona had called out for her mother when her forward magazine let lose, if Oklahoma had done the same as she rolled over from 7 torpedo strikes, or if Utah had cursed South for not being there as she watched two of her little cousins get cut down before being finished off herself.

"Are you ok South?" North asked as she caught up to the old dreadnought, snapping her out of her train of thought.

South Carolina wiped away a tear running down her face as they approached the docks. "Yes child. I was just thinking about the past."

As South Carolina stepped out of the water on to Ford Island, little did she realize she wasn't the only battleship in the harbor doing so…

Atop what remained of the Pennsylvania Class battleship USS Arizona sat a battered soul. Her shoulder length black hair was singed from fires that had long since gone out. Her clothes bore the cuts and tears of shrapnel from near misses. Most notable though was the dark brown stain running down the front of her shirt, a reminder of the modified 16-inch naval shell that had torn through her deck armor before gutting her with her own forward looked up at the two figures sailing near her memorial. Though the view was distorted and her hearing muffled, she could still recognize her mother.

She would have recognized South Carolina anywhere. While the two had barely ever served together in the 10 years both had been in service, South had always could get messages to her daughters, either through their various cousins and half-sister or other ships. It was how she and her sisters had heard about the fate of South and the others at the hands of the Washington Naval Treaty in 1925, a day that was only barely beat by December 7th, 1941 as the worst day in her life.

She still couldn't place the battleship that sailed with her mother. At first she had thought it might have been Nevada or California, but the girl's rigging missed the 4th turret that denoted her half-sisters and was far taller then best she could guess was that it was one of the fast battleships that had just been starting to sail when she had died.

She had seen another like the blond-haired girl, the steel behemoth that had stood guard over her for what felt like ages before being cut down by that monster of a submarine mere months ago. She had been forced to watch as the torpedo found their mark, helpless as they had crumpling her guardians hull like it was scrap metal.

She had seen many things like that in the past few months. Crippled warships steaming to harbor, always fewer coming back than what had been sent out. With them were spirits like her. Cruisers looking to take on all who would dare challenge them, destroyers that skated around the harbor as if it were their playground, and the subs of the deep that were her only contact to the outside world.

It was through them that she had learned about the war. About the Abyssals, those inhuman monsters that were laying waste to her country and the world. They had also pleaded with her to help, begged her to come back and send these demons back to hell. She couldn't though, not without breaking her promise to her crew, one that she had made with her dying breath.

That if she ever had another chance she would never leave her crew defenseless again.

The two battleships were among the last into the briefing room, followed only by the destroyer USS Laffey, who had been on patrol at the time. The little Benson raced by them as she entered the room, making a path straight to The Taffies sitting in the back.

As North and herself entered the room, South was once again caught by surprise at how different things were in Pearl. Back at Norfolk or Pensacola, her entrance as a simulated rear admiral would have caused everyone in the room to stop dead in their tracks. Here she was barely noticed, with only Sullivans and Kidd giving any noticeable reaction. The destroyers gave them a casual, well at least casual compared to how they normally acted, salute. Northampton and her sister simply nodded as the two battleships walked past them while the destroyers and submarines in the back didn't even seem to register their entrance.

It wasn't until Admiral Enfield walked into the room that everyone settled down. "Good morning ladies." He said in a commanding tone. "I understand it's early, but the information we just received is too important to sit on. 15 minutes ago, one of our surveillance drones captured this just south of Midway."

A deadening silence fell over the room as the video screen turned on, showing the video feed from Sentinel 5. As South Carolina watched the 7 vessels cut through the waves, she felt a sense of revulsion well up inside of her, a need to wipe not only those ships but all of their kind of the face of the earth, to make them pay for all that they had done. South knew she wasn't the only one feeling this. As she glanced around the room she saw glares and scrawls.

On the feed she could see four smaller craft, definitely destroyers, darting around in search of submarines. It was the three ships in the middle that drew her attention though. A pair of light cruisers, their secondary batteries sweeping the skies for aircraft, flanked what could only be a battleship. She understood why North and herself had been called in. With that battleship on the prowl Enfield had no choice but to commit North to the fight.

"That headed for us sir?" Augusta asked, her voice barely containing her hope that the answer to her question would be yes.

"No." Admiral Enfield replied. "It's headed to something far more important." The screen switched to another group of ships trudging along at 15 knots. Four cargo ships huddled around a quartet of Destroyer Class Fleet Girls and with a single Heavy Cruiser acting as support. "This convoy's carrying vital supplies for our friends in the Australian Air Force needed to keep their F-35's running. Their escorts are two N class destroyers, Two Fletchers, and the Leander class Light Cruiser HMNZS Achilles. Right now that battle group's making a beeline for the convoy, and if they catch it those girls and the transports won't stand a chance."

South Knew that was an understatement. Achilles, while no doubt a good fighter in her own right, didn't have the armor or firepower to duke it out with a battleship, and the destroyers would be shredded by both the battleship's secondary batteries and the two light cruisers before they ever got within torpedo range.

"This is why we're not planning on letting them anywhere it." Enfield finished. " North Carolina, I know you just came back but we need you for this." For her part, North simply nodded. "You'll be leading Sullivans and Kidd as our decoy force. Your job is simple. Just keep that battleship occupied. Smash it to pieces and send it to the bottom if you can, but the main thing is that you need to keep it looking your way so that the Northamptons and the other destroyers can catch it from the west. Augusta will be leading that part of the mission. Their job is to neutralize those light cruisers so that our killing punch can come in."

"Killing punch?" North Carolina asked.

Enfield grinned. "Two B-1 Lancers from San Diego carrying 8 BLU-31 JDAM's each. Once you guys clear out the escorts they'll deliver their payload on whatever's left.

"And whatever's left after their done?" Northampton asked hopefully.

"Engage as long as it remains headed for the convoy. If they turn around, disengage and return to base." South could see the heavy cruiser's shoulders slump as she heard the words. "I can't have you guys chasing a lone destroyer into a trap. Bowfin, Barb, and Mingo will round out the rest of the task force. You three are my backup plan. I want you along the convoys route in case any of those things break through North and the others. Nautilus and her sisters will hold down the fort. Any questions?" Enfield was met with a defining silence. "Ok, grab some food at the mess hall. You ship out in two hours. Dismissed."


	7. Chapter 7

Admiral Enfield watched as South Carolina paced back and forth in the command center. The old dreadnought had seemed restless ever since North and the others had left to engage the abyssal fleet several hours before. Even if she hadn't been doing that for as long as she had, the trail of cracked tiles she was starting to leave gave her feelings away.

"You know, if you really want to wear a hole in the ground, I'm sure the boys digging slit trenches for the AAA crews wouldn't mind having a little help." He joked

The light-hearted joke seemed to have the intended effect as South stopped in her tracks, the sound of broken linoleum fragments scraping the ground echoing through the room as she turned to face him. "Sorry," she sheepishly began as she surveyed the damage she had already caused. "I guess I'm just a little worried about North and the others."

Enfield knew that the "little" part of her statement was a severe understatement. Even from the other side of the room, he could see that the dreadnought wore her anxiety about the upcoming battle like it was part of her uniform. Her body shook with both anticipation and worry over the events that were about to unfold, and her eyes were constantly darting between him and the screen that showed the two fleets.

"I'm sure they'll be fine." He said reassuringly. "North's the best treaty battleship the world ever saw, and while they don't always act it on base, those girls with her are some of the best in the fleet."

"I know, it's just that…"

"First day of school." Enfield finished. "I know the feeling."

"I didn't realize that schools were that dangerous now." The aging dreadnought asked. "You sure you don't mean boot camp."

"Neither of mine are old enough for that yet," the admiral said turning back towards the video screen. "And I hope to god they don't follow in my footsteps if those things are still around."

South nodded as she turned back towards the screen herself. The two fleets couldn't have been more different. The abyssal fleet, travelling at a brisk 25 knots now that they were certain no submarines were around, seemed to radiate pure hatred. The guns on the destroyers seemed to be on a constant swivel, looking for anything that might be stupid enough to get within range of them. The battleship and its two escorts in contrast remained as still as statues, as if everything else around them wasn't worthy of their armament.

The force assembled to stop it seemed tiny and under-gunned in comparison, even if both knew that was far from the case. Between their size, the camouflage pattern Navy Working Uniforms each girl was wearing, and the glare off the ocean the evening sun produced, the two almost had an easier time tracking the wakes the various girls made than tracking the girls themselves.

"I've always meant to ask how you discovered that the NWUs worked as great camouflage?" South Carolina asked.

"Kind of what they were designed for." Enfield replied. "We just experimented with them by having the Reapers try to track the destroyers outside of the harbor. Might not stop those things from spotting them on radar, but it sure does seem to play hell with their rangefinders."

"Sure wouldn't have minded that back when I was still sailing in the Atlantic." South said as she placed a wireless headset Enfield had given her on her head.

"How long till contact?" She asked.

"Approximately an hour, given the two groups current position and heading." One of the techs said before switching over to the operations channel. "Command to Showboat. Target approximately 50 away from you at bearing 330. North-northeast. Advise your group break off to intercept."

"Showboat. That's what you call a hostess at a brothel, not a first rate ship the line." South Carolina muttered.

"Um mom, that was my nickname from the war." She heard North say over the headset. She could also see several personnel snickering at her misfortune. "I take it the microphone is voice activated?" she asked a smirking Enfield after she had covered the mic with her hand.

"Possibly." The admiral answered, doing his best to hide the grin on his face from the dreadnoughts glare.

Had he seen the glare USS North Carolina was giving Northampton and Augusta at that moment as she listened to their hoots of laughter, Admiral Enfield's first thought would have been "like mother like daughter". The fast battleship knew they were going to milk that brothel comment for all it was worth when they got back from this, and god knew how much further the Taffys would stretch it after that.

The two groups had just split off from each other to get into position for the ambush, the planned distance between them a mere 30 miles. Sullivans and Kidd, her two escorts, constantly switched between radar and sonar to keep the way clear. In addition, North had both of her Kingfisher scout planes out. One searching for any screening force the Reapers might have missed, while the other kept an eye out for any of its abyssal counterparts that might be trying to spot them. She'd need to pull them in soon though, given the setting sun, otherwise she'd have to try a nighttime retrieval.

Not that she needed them anymore. Given the reports from Pearl, the main body of enemy force would be within range of her and her escort's radar within a half hour, and while her scouts had spotted it many times in the past several hours, the ocean around them had produced no more threats.

As the enemy drew closer, she recalled her floatplanes. The first to land by her side was the advanced scout, her improvised CAP staying up until they were only a few minutes from when radar contact was estimated to occur. While they were risking the plane being spotted on radar, North knew that anything equipped with an air search radar would also have the radar equipment to spot her group around the same time they did.

It wasn't long after when her saw both Sullivan and Kidd straighten, their eyes wide as their radar operators report the enemy fleet's position. Soon her own radar screen comes alive as she spots the blurry dots that represent their adversary appear on her more outdated set. The abyssal craft, just outside the range of her cannons, still sailed in their tightly packed formation. The radar returns from the battleship and the two cruisers almost appearing as one contact while the 4 destroyers circle just barely outside it.

"Showboat to Command. I have radar contact with an abyssal fleet 22 miles out north east of me. I will be in range in 60 seconds. Requesting assistance from Reaper UAV's for fire correction."

"Request approved Showboat." Admiral Enfield replied. "Be advised, both Arclight flight and the Northamptons are in position waiting for you to begin the attack."

"Roger." He heard over the radio.

South Carolina looked at him as she moved to get a better view of the screen, her face now a mask that hid even the slightest hint of emotion. Even though she was hundreds of miles away from the action, the dreadnought acted like she was right on the firing line with her daughter.

"Decrease the zoom a little on the video feed on the right." She said. Immediately the camera tracking the abyssal fleet panned out, the ships becoming smaller as thousands of yards of open ocean was exposed. "Everything's ready on our end North. You may fire when ready."

"Understood. Firing in 3...2...1." On the right screen a black cloud swallowed up North as all 9 of her cannons let loose. For over an agonizing minute, neither screen showed anything else before a series of geysers appeared behind the abyssal formation on their port side.

"Adjust aim, 2000 yards down and 600 yards starboard-cancel that, 600 yards port." South said adjusting her commands as the battleship and its escorts started a hard left turn. She watched as the destroyers and light cruisers sped up, either trying to gain some distance from the likely target or organizing themselves into an impromptu screening force.

Either way, it was a bad move on their part as North's second salvo, either by luck or design on South's part, landed square in their formation. One slammed into one of the light cruisers bow between the number 1 and 2 turrets. The shell, designed to punch through twice the armor thickness of its targets belt, easily burrowed itself into the forward magazine.

Enfield couldn't help but notice the grin that spread across South's face as the pieces of her daughter's first victim slowly returned to the abyss they came from. She wasn't the only one though, as across the room cheers and high fives were exchanged between the other base personnel.

"Good hit North. You just killed yourself a cruiser." She said. "Now shift fire 600 yards back."

"Understood" North said as she started grinning from ear to ear. While not anywhere near as blood thirsty as the cruisers, she was still glad to be fighting the good fight like she had wanted ever since they had begun the attempt to bring her back into action at Wilmington.

Shells splashed in front of her as the enemy let loose with yet another salvo, a vain but futile effort. While not as powerful as her Iowa cousins, she was still one of the most advanced battleships of the last war. Between her radar and fire control directors, a long-range fight like this was hers to lose.

She could see the enemy ships on radar. The battleship still sat 30,000 yards, trying to keep her at arm's length. Its escorts though were steaming towards her at an angle inside of 25,000 yards in an attempt at crossing her formation's T. "Augusta, how long until you guys hit those escorts?"

"About that…" The cruiser replied, more than a hint of frustration in her voice. "We weren't expecting them to move on you like that. We're trying to run them down now but the bastards are running at full speed."

North bit her lip. She knew that the Northamptons, being a full 4 knots slower than the light cruiser, weren't going to be able to catch up with them until they slowed down to fire at her. She looked at Sully and Kidd. She could see that they were waiting for her to give the order to attack. That was suicide though, with the two destroyers having little chance of even getting within range of the group before the light cruiser and its escort tore them apart. "Understood."

North put one last salvo towards the battleship before the ocean around her turned into a sea of foam as the cruiser opened fire on her. It was like being in front of a machinegun as 6-inch shells fell around her and her escorts. Every so often she'd feel a sting as a shell found its mark, only to bounce off her armor.

She was still trading fire with the battleship when she heard a yelp in front of her. Looking forward, she could see Kidd holding her left hand close to her body, the turret it normally held nowhere to be found. Sullivan moved next to her, trying to wrap the mangled appendage with a gauze roll when she fell backwards with a similar shout of pain, a stream of blackish red liquid flowing down her face from a gash on her scalp.

"Get out of here!" North ordered without a second thought.

The two destroyers looked at each other. "But-" Kidd began when North cut her off with a glare.

"You heard me." She began, seething with anger. "I can survive this. You can't."

Both damaged destroyers broke off from North, glances of regret staring back at the battleship. Still, the shells from the cruiser, now added to by the destroyers' 5-inch guns, continued falling. "Augusta, you almost in position?"

"Give us a few more minutes." Was the hurried response over the radio.

"I don't have a few more minutes." North shouted. "Sully and Kidd already had to pull out due to damage and-AAAAA!" Her response was cut off as the enemy battleship finally found its mark. A shell slammed into the port side secondary battery of her rigging, tearing apart the turrets and setting off the shells inside them. North crumpled over as her crews worked to put out the fires and repair any damage they could.

"North," she heard her mother call out over the radio. "Are you al-" At that moment a shell from the cruiser struck her bridge, taking out both her radar and radio. Clutching the gash on her head, North looked over at where she hoped her cruisers were. "Whatever you guys are planning," she whispered. "Do it fast."


	8. Chapter 8

Augusta bit her lip as North's last transmission, followed by South's frantic replies, crackled through her radio. She caught a scowl forming on her sister's face as the two cruisers and their escorts chased after their quarry, both cursing themselves for being caught flat-footed.

They had been waiting to blindside the enemy formation after North drew their attention to her. The expectation had been for the Abyssals to stay in one group, or barring that intercept any ships that tried to make a break for the convoy like the German surface raiders of the last world wars. What they had never expected was for the surviving escorts to launch their own attack on North Carolina and the two destroyers guarding her.

Now they were trying to catch that group while the battleship still had a chance. They were redlining their boilers, clawing for every ounce of horsepower they could as they attempted to catch a group of ships that were faster than they could ever hope to be.

As luck would have it though, in focusing on North Carolina the cruiser and its escorts were forced to trade speed for accuracy. As the makeshift cruiser division got within 20,000 yards they could see their quarry had slowed to 20 knots as they pounded away at the helpless battleship. When they got within 17,000 they braced for shells that never came. By the time they passed 15,000 they realized the cruiser, either because it was so focused on North or because it thought its formation had left the Northamptons in the dust, had become fixated on North and North alone.

At 15,000 a smile spread across her face. 'Oh, how embarrassing this would be.' She thought. A radar equipped light cruiser and 4 destroyers ambushed by a pair of heavy cruisers in broad daylight. On her sister's face, she witnessed an almost feral grin form, the joy she felt even greater than Augusta's.

It took her a second to remember that Northampton was a veteran of Guadalcanal, where Japanese ambushes had been almost a rite of passage for US cruisers. Northampton had failed hers, felled by a pair of destroyer launched torpedoes at Tassafaronga. It seemed to her sister that Northampton was more than ready to return the favor, even if the enemy wasn't Japanese.

"Augusta, Northampton, what in god's name are you doing?" She heard South practically shout as the two closed to within 10,000 yards of their target. They didn't dare answer, afraid to give away their position.

9,000 yards. Almost ready.

"Augusta…" South repeated, her anger seething through the radio. Augusta tuned out the rest, too focused on her targets to notice the tirade aimed at her. She wasn't worried about North. The battleship was designed to fight ships with guns twice the circumference of her prey and shrug off their shells.

6,000 yards. Johnston and Hoel pulled ahead of Augusta as they formed a makeshift line of battle to the port side of the enemy cruiser.

"...When the hell do you plan on firing?"

"NOW!" Augusta roared as her and Northampton opened up at almost point blank on the light cruiser. Hit by over a dozen 8-inch armor piercing shells and a virtual blizzard of 5-inch anti-aircraft common shells from the destroyers, the abyssal never even realized what was happening before it had been reduced to a funeral pyre.

Augusta quickly shifted her attention to the destroyers, her guns lowering to their loading positions as her crews fed them their next salvo. The destroyers don't wait for them to finish their task, setting upon their abyssal counterparts like a pack of wild dogs.

Johnston was the first to draw blood, two of her torpedoes connecting with the lead destroyer before it had a chance to bring its weapons around to fire. The dying vessel, its back broken and forward engine room gutted, stopped dead in its tracks as the blond destroyer savaged it further with her 5/38's.

The one following it hardly fared better. Its midsection vanished as three of Hoel's torpedoes crashed into it, its bow and stern raising out of the water as it sank. The brown-haired girl quickly shifted her fire to her sister's wounded target. The abyssal destroyer seemed to melt under the weight of their shells.

At that moment, the two trailing destroyers who had ducked behind the burning wreck of the cruiser after the opening shots reappeared. Fire poured from their forward guns as they tried to drive Johnston and Hoel from their mortally wounded friend. The two girls were forced to break off their attack as they evaded the enemy's fire, one of Hoel's pigtails growing noticeably shorter as a shell barely missed her head.

Heerman and Laffey attempted to follow the destroyers around the burning wreck, only to be driven off by fire from the abyssal destroyer's rear guns. Laffey was clutching her left shoulder where her number two turret used to be. With the threat to their rear dealt with, the abyssal craft bore down on Johnston and Hoel.

Only to walk into a world of hurt as the Northamptons, their field of fire no longer obstructed by friendly destroyers, fired their second salvo at a little over 4,000 yards. The lead destroyer shuddered to a halt as its bow was blown clear off by a pair of Special Purpose Common shells. The trailing craft similarly stalled as a shell gutted its engine room, another reducing its superstructure to little more than scrap metal. Seconds later, a pair of shells from either Heerman or Laffey ripped into its number 3 and 4 turrets, the rounds easily punching through their paper-thin armor.

Rendered blind, deaf, and dumb by continued fire from the cruisers and destroyers, the stricken craft was helpless as Laffey lined up for a torpedo run along its starboard side. The early variant Mk.14's she carried, considered to be unreliable at the best of times, performed as well as could be expected of them. Two either completely missed or ran deep, passing underneath the stricken ship's hull. Another hit but failed to detonate. The last two though, more than made up for it as they finished what Augusta's 8-inch shell started, ripping the starboard side of the destroyer apart and causing it to capsize in seconds.

As the last of the abyssal craft sank below the waves, Augusta activated her radio. "Augusta to Command. All abyssal escorts eliminated."

"Understood Augusta." Admiral Enfield said as he watched the gun duel between North and the abyssal battleship as the two closed within 20,000 yards of each other.

"About time." USS South Carolina muttered next to him. The battleship had long removed her headset, none too pleased that the Northamptons had, for all intents and purpose, used her daughter as bait to ambush the cruiser and its destroyers.

Enfield could understand why looking at the North Carolina class battleship. Even from this distance the damage to her was clear as day. Her port side secondary battery lay in ruins, with only half the guns still operational after a lucky hit by the battleship. In addition, all along her hull, plates were buckled and cratered from non-penetrating hits. The superstructure behind her was missing its radar, main rangefinder, and radio mast, courtesy of shells from that cruiser.

North herself looked barely better than her equipment. Her hair had coppery black streaks and her face had visible gashes and scratches from 5 and 6-inch shells. Her uniform was torn in multiple places and a growing black stain could be seen on her left abdomen and hit.

Not that her opponent was any better. While her accuracy wasn't as good as it had been at the beginning of the battle, she was still giving as good as she was getting. The battleship's bridge had long ceased to be of any real use to it, a pair of shells from North leveling both it and the nearby secondary batteries almost to the deck. The guns of its number 3 turret bent at odd angles after it took a direct hit.

As he watched, the battleships traded another salvo. The abyssal shuddered as its Number 2 turret came apart after a direct hit. North meanwhile doubled over after a direct hit to her abdomen, her belt shrugging off the hit.

To his side, he heard South Carolina gasp as she watched her daughter take another possibly fatal hit, the metal desk she had been leaning on had long since been twisted into an almost unrecognizable hunk of metal by her stress induced hand-wringing.

Enfield knew he had to end this fight soon. Even if North was winning this fight, he needed to minimize her repair time and the chance that the abyssal might get lucky. "Command to Arclight." He said into the radio. "You are cleared to engage."

Off to his left, he heard an ensign muttering under a sort of prayer under his breath as everyone in the room waited for the bombers to begin their attack. "Come on," the young man said. "Big money, big money, no whammy, no whammy."

-

Every part of North Carolina's body seemed to ache as she traded fire with the battleship in front of her. Already she could feel bruises forming from shots that had failed to penetrate her skin and blood flowed from the places where they had. She wiped blood from her face from where that surviving cruiser had gotten a lucky hit on her.

A cruiser that was long since dead, if the sudden drop in the shells landing around her had been any indication. Now it was like the days of old: Two ships of the line squaring off mono-a-mono.

It was a battle that, despite all the damage she had taken, was being won by her. The 13 inch steel belt and 7 inches of deck armor that made up her hull had passed every test thrown at it so far except for one, and she was sure she had returned the damage dealt to her tenfold.

Without her radar or main range finder, the battleship never saw the two bombers until they had passed over her adversary. Through the limited view of her back up rangefinders, she could vaguely make out the smoke cloud denoting at least one hit.

She couldn't tell if it had been a mortal wound though, and didn't plan on assuming that the abyssal was dead. Her crews continued to load and fire her main guns with the same methodical purpose as before as she waited for some sign, either from a friend or her own eyes, that her job was done.

North received that sign with her forth salvo after the bomber attack. Even through her battered optics she could still make out the distinctive flash of light and accompanying mushroom cloud that denoted several tons of explosives and gunpowder being set off one of her shells burrowing into a magazine.

It couldn't have been more than a minute before Sullivan's and Kidd sailed back into formation with her. The two destroyers already sported bandages over their various wounds, splotches of reddish-black blood still coving their faces and uniforms.

"Are you ok ma'am?" Sully asked, the slur in her speech just barely noticeable.

North nodded. "I've definitely felt better, but my DC crews are saying I should make it back to Pearl in one piece."

Kidd nodded as she rubbed her brow with her bandaged hand. "That's good to hear, because your Mom's been freaking out ever since you stopped answering her radio calls."

"That cruiser knocked out my radar, range finder and radio." North replied rather sheepishly. "I haven't been able to hear anything besides myself for the last half hour until you guys came back."

"All the same, I'm sure she'll be glad to hear you're alright." Kidd replied before radioing a report on North's condition back to Pearl.

-

With the news that everyone would be returning to Pearl that night, the personnel in the command center let out a long withheld breath. They had won this round against the Abyssal. Sent the monsters back to where they spawned. While the men and women in that room knew the fight wasn't over by a long shot, they also knew that today meant they would hang on to Pearl, and by extension Hawaii, a little longer. And that was more than enough of a reason to celebrate.

At least it was to the human personnel in the room. To the lone battleship still watching her daughter as she and her escorts rejoined with the cruisers, it was something completely different. To her, the day had shown once again just how worthless she had become.


	9. Chapter 9

As they sailed through the night, the Fleet girls of Pearl Harbor were in a jovial mood despite their various scrapes, bruises, and other injuries. Though no one dared turn a light on out of a healthy fear of what abyssal submarines were capable of, the air was full of chatter as the girls compared stories and kill counts.

With the radio mast of her rigging now somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific, North was only able to hear snippets of these conversations whenever someone near her started talking. This was merely one of the myriad problems her damage control teams had cataloged as the group sailed back home at a steady 20 knots.

Her sight wasn't much better, the radar and optics it depended on torn apart by the same volley that had knocked out her radio. While she could make out the shapes of Sullivan's and Kidd, her two close escorts, she could only track the sub hunting Taffies by their movements when they entered her limited field of view.

The good news was that they wouldn't be alone for long. Besides the eye in the sky that still watched them from above, two Mk.5 Special Operations Craft sailed towards the fleet to give them a lift back to Pearl. Though they were still an hour's sail from the meeting point, already she found herself fantasizing a nice trip to the repair docks.

"Hell of a job, right?" Augusta said as sail up next to North Carolina. The heavy cruiser slapped North on the back of her shoulder as she did so, causing the battleship to flinch as yet another wave of pain shot through her body as the Northampton class's hand found one of her bruises. "We kicked their asses real good." The cruiser continued seemingly unconcerned with the pain she had inadvertently caused her flagship. "A battleship, 2 cruisers, and 4 destroyers sunk with only a few scrapes and bruises on our side."

"Speak for yourself." North heard Kidd say. Out in front of her she could see Kidd had her good arm draped around Sullivan in order to keep Sully steady. Her other arm now sat in a makeshift sling, her mangled hand now buried under a pile of gauze bandages. Sully's head looked very similar, though the bandages wrapped around it were starting to soak through with her blood, turning them dark crimson is certain spots. Every so often North could see her swerve as if avoiding some sort of object only she could see. And to be honest, North wasn't much better off. Besides the gashes in her head and side and the intense burning pain in her gut, bruises seemed to be forming on just about every square inch of her body.

"Easy there Tin Can." Augusta replied. "No one's in any real danger of sinking and everything can be fixed with a couple of spa days and a visit from the doc."

Kidd simply shook her head while a very confused look developed on North's face. "We have a doctor for us on Pearl?" She asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Kind-a-sort-a." Augusta replied, waving her hand in that "sort of yes, sort of no" motion. "The US Navy has a couple of repair boats that came back. Not enough to put one at each fleet girl base but enough to put one on each coast. She's probably being flown in from San Diego right now."

It seemed to Admiral Enfield that he had barely closed his eyes when a knock on the door to his office jolted him awake. He had opted to use the couch in his office, figuring that it would be easier with the coming mountain of work that would soon be upon him after the day's battle. "Enter." He said, standing up and brushing off the set of NWU's he had fallen asleep in as he did so.

He had expected to see one his command staff enter the door, most likely with news relating to the members of his fleet that were out to sea at the moment. Instead, what he got was someone that while unexpected, at least in terms of how quickly she had gotten to Pearl, was very much a welcome sight.

Despite barely being taller than the destroyers he commanded and looking just as young, the girl in front of him could have stood in for Rosie the Riveter. Even under the battleship grey coveralls the girl wore, he could make out a physique that would have beat most midshipmen in a weight lifting competition. Brown work boots and tool belt in place of the gun belt that most girls wore with their 'original' uniform completed the look.

Despite the hours long flight she had just taken to get from San Diego, the girl barely looked worse for wear. With all but a few strands of her light green hair tucked under a red bandana, Enfield could see her sea green eyes sparkled with a light one wouldn't expect to find given her line of work.

The girl saluted after entering the room. "USS Medusa reporting with orders from CINCPAC." The first purpose built repair ship said.

"Good to see you." Admiral Enfield replied returning the salute. "We didn't expect you for a couple more hours."

Medusa just shrugged. "CINCPAC ordered me here as soon as I could gather supplies and get a plane ride."

"Wish it was under better circumstances though."

Medusa just smirked at the comment. "Sir, it's never a good thing if I'm coming to a base outside of 'Dago. You guys don't exactly invite me here for birthdays. So," she continued crossing her arms. "What do you got for me today?"

"Here are the initial damage reports from Northampton and Augusta." Enfield replied, handing Medusa the rough outline the two cruisers had managed to get from the girl's various damage control crews.

"How bad off are those two?" Medusa asked as she took the document, not so fondly remembering the two main reasons she normally ended up at Pearl.

"They actually came out without a scratch. It's North Carolina and the three destroyers that I'm worried about."

"Thank god for small miracles." Medusa muttered as she began looking over the report. "Let's see…USS North Carolina. One port side dual 5-inch battery knocked out, two more with heavy damage and a fourth moderately damaged. Two hits to the bridge destroyed just about everything important in it. There's fragmentation damage to her superstructure from secondary explosions in the 5-inch batteries. And to top it all off, numerous armor plates on her hull that will need to be replaced. Jesus Chris, you have her all of two weeks and you already broke the poor girl. You need to be more gentle with the girls while they're still getting use to dry land sir." She said teasingly.

"Always quick with a joke, aren't you."

"Only way to stay sane when your job is to literally put your friends back together piece by piece. You either learn to laugh during the day or accept that you're going to cry yourself to sleep at night."

Enfield simply nodded. "So, what about the rest of my girls?"

"They all look worse than they are. While Sully has damage to her bridge, she still seems to have most of her functions still and that sort of damage is easily fixed by the fairies. We'll know more once I get a good up close look at her, but I'd say we're only looking at a 4 to 5-day repair job. Laffey only suffered damage to her turret and surrounding deck space, and while Kidd had her bow shot up, most of the hits were to non-vital spaces except for that turret. I'd say a week for the former and 10 to 14 days for the later. North's going to be longer though, three weeks to a month going by how widespread the damage is and how many systems were knocked out of order."

"Damn," Enfield said. "I was hoping for better news than that. I was counting on North to anchor our defensive line here. That and I was hoping for some good news to calm down her mother."

"Almost forgot to tell you." Medusa said with a smile. "I might need to borrow her to help me with North's repairs. I know North's about 40 years older than her, but I wouldn't mind a few extra hands to help me, and I don't exactly trust the rest of your destroyers and cruisers being near acetylene."

Enfield groaned. "You do realize she already wants to kill me for this right."

This just elicited a snicker from Medusa. "I doubt she really wants to kill you."

"There's a desk in the command center that would be pretty vocal in disagreeing with you if it could talk." Enfield muttered. "I'd still give her a few minutes to catch some rest it's been a long day for her."

"I'm still going to need some help off loading supplies from the deuce and a half I borrowed from the Air Force."

Enfield began to ask how a girl who looked barely old enough to drive had managed to commandeer the vehicle but decided against it, figuring some things were better left unknown. "I'll work on getting a crew together to help you with that. North and the others should be meeting up with the SOC's soon."

-

North could tell they were close to the rendezvous when Augusta signaled for the group to stop. "Hoel's got a pair of faint contacts about 5 miles in front of us." The cruiser explained before radioing the destroyer back. "Go ahead and signal them."

Everything was quiet for a minute as the destroyer attempted to radio the two unknown contacts. While they were most likely the SOCs that were being used to get them home, there was always the chance that the two vessels might be Abyssals looking for an easy kill.

"Ok, it's them." Augusta said, causing North to release the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. "Here's the plan. North, Kidd, Sully, and Laffey are going on the first boat. After you're clear, the rest of us will pile into the other one. Remember to take your rigging off before you step foot on the boat or you're going to capsize it."

"Wait; if we take this off won't we need to-" North began before Northampton cut her off.

"The things just disappear and reappear back at base. We still don't know how that happens, but it makes tricks like this a lot easier to pull off."

Any further attempts to explain were cut off by the approach of the Special Operations Craft. North heard the sleet grey boats long before they seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The vessels, which bore a very close resemblance to the PT boats of World War 2, quickly moved to within feet of the girls.

One by one, each of the wounded ships slipped out of the straps that connected them to their damaged rigging before being helped onto the boat by a pair of night vision goggled crew-members. As North Carolina felt her rigging slip off her back, the toll of the battle finally hit her. She had barely made it aboard the boat when her legs finally failed her, turning to jelly as she collapsed into the to sailors helping her onto the deck. "Sorry" she said weakly. "I've had a hell of a day."

"Don't worry about it ma'am." One of them said as the duo helped her into a seating position against the crafts hull. "Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride."

This was exactly what North did. After a quick check on her wounds by one of the sailors manning the vessel, North leaned her head back, falling asleep for the first time in almost a full day as the SOC sped on its way back to Pearl.

 **Author note: Yes I know Vestal and other repair ships predate Medusa, but they were all converted coalers. Medusa was the first one built from the keel up as a repair boat.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Norfolk, Virginia_

 _January 1920_

"Mom's here! Hey mom, it's so good to see you."

USS South Carolina smiled as she saw the dots and dashes of New York's rather excited greeting. The Super Dreadnought's signal lamps flashing at a speed most would find unreadable.

"For god's sake York." Another set of signal lamps cut in. "Not every battleship that docked in Norfolk is mom." It belonged to Delaware, the oldest of her daughters sent to fight in the war in Europe. "I'm sorry about that. Our mothers supposed to be here somewhere and my cousin's a little excited to see her."

"I would certainly hope so after not hearing a single peep out of any of you in almost two years." South Carolina smiled as her own lamps sent out her message. She could practically hear the squeal that was no doubt coming from New York's mouth and she could see other signal lamps lighting up as the battleships of Battle Division 9 and their escorts returned after two years in Europe.

This had been a reunion she had waited months for. Because of her age, South Carolina had been relegated to stateside duty while Delaware, Wyoming, Florida, and New York had made their way to Europe to join the British Home Fleet as they blockaded Germany.

As it turned out the worry about her age had been more than justified when she had first lost her starboard propeller shaft, followed soon after by the throttle on her port side shaft, while escorting a convoy back in April of 1918.

South still worried about her daughter's safety as they stared down the German High Seas Fleet. She had heard about the losses the much better trained and better equipped British had taken against them at places like Dogger's bank and Jutland, their armor seemingly useless to the long range fire the Germans dropped on them.

It was a worry magnified when her youngest daughters, Nevada and Oklahoma, sailed with Utah to join their older cousins in Britain. Nevada in particular was excited at the prospect of seeing action after being relegated due to a lack of fuel oil in Britain, or "Bullshit supply excuses" as the first of the Nevada called it. While the first two ships of what was already being called the "standard" class were supposed to be two of the most advanced ships afloat, South still worried that their inexperience would be their undoing.

Fortunately, the expected battle had never occurred. Instead the Americans would meet the enemy not as combatant but as victors, helping their British allies escort the High Seas Fleet to its postwar internment at Scapa Flow.

Now South Carolina sat in dry-dock for a refit after sailing to Europe as an improvised transport, tasked with helping move the army of men sent to end the Great War back home. She was surprised to see New York and the others sailing into port, having expected them to still be in Europe after escorting President Wilson to France.

"I trust you ladies behaved yourself while you were guests of our esteemed allies?" South Carolina signaled after the lightshow of hellos had subsided.

"For the most part." Delaware replied. "Had a couple of issues with U-boats. York had a nasty run-in with one off northern Scotland."

South gasped, thinking that her daughter had been the victim of a German torpedo. "How… how bad was it?"

"Delaware's exaggerating mom, as usual." York cut in as if reading her mom's thoughts. "One tried to occupy the same space as me over in Pentland Firth. It kind of ran into me and then ended up getting chewed up by my propeller." South felt a wave of relief wash over her as she heard her daughter explain what happened to her during the war. "… At least we think it was a U-boat."

"What do you mean?" a rather confused South Carolina asked.

"Well…" USS Florida chimed in. "We never found any wreckage, but if it wasn't a submarine, then York managed to find to find a shipwreck everyone else missed."

"As long as you're alright." South said.

"For the most part. The submarine took my starboard propeller with it when I ran it over. Plus, I had this cool dent in me that they found in dry-dock. It looks just like the bow of a U-boat. You should have seen it."

South could practically hear the groan that precluded Delaware's reply. "For god's sake York. I don't think mom needs to hear about your hull damage, even if it was the most interesting thing that happened in Europe."

"What about that deal just before the armistice where you all-" Florida began before Delaware cut her off.

"We are not going to talk about November 1918. Especially you, miss clean-bill-of-health."

"But..."

"No!" New York, Wyoming, and Delaware all shouted.

South Carolina couldn't help but giggle as her daughters continued to banter back and forth over their exploits during the Great War, glad that they had come home safe and sound.

South Carolina's eyes shot open as she felt something touch her shoulder, her body almost catapulting itself of the couch she had been using as a makeshift bed. After rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes she looked around the break room before spotting the girl who had awakened her.

She knew that the girl was a V-boat, if only because they were the only Fleet Girls left on the base besides her. The girl was roughly the same size as the destroyers with hazel eyes. Her hair, dyed navy blue like most other subs as a supposed form of camouflage, hung in a single braid over her right shoulder. She was clad in the black full-body wetsuit most submarines chose to wear in favor of the 40's era one piece swimsuits they had come back with. A .357 magnum hung from a shoulder holster, the reloads for it hanging on the webbing of her M-1928 combat pack along with a half dozen grenades.

"Is everything all right…Nautilus, is it?" South Carolina asked.

The girl shook her head before pointing to the patch on her right shoulder, a yellow rams-headed snake wrapped around a mine.

"Oh, sorry dear. What does Admiral Enfield need me for?"

"Medusa requested you…" The girl began, her voice barely even a whisper.

"You'll need to speak up Argonaut. These old ears aren't what they use to be. To many years sitting next to big guns will do that to you." South Carolina interrupted jokingly.

Argonaut took a deep breath before beginning again, her voice still barely above what humans would consider an indoor voice. South Carolina knew better to complain though. None of the subs particularly liked to talk all that much, preferring the pseudo sign language they used to talk to each other over audible communication. "Medusa said she needed you at the docks. She said something about needing an extra hand."

South Carolina sighed. "She probably didn't tell you when North and the others were coming back did she?" Argonaut simply shook her head no. "Very well then, shall we head over to the docks?"

Rather than the cold slabs of steel one would expect for a repair facility, the room in question was a series of bathtubs. While no one, not even the girls themselves, seemed to understand exactly how it worked, it was a well-known fact that the mineral water used in these facilities seemed to help heal their wounds.

As expected, the room was bustling with activity. Men moved around it, helping USS Medusa set up the equipment she had brought with her. A welder's mask now sat on top of her head in place of the bandanna, the faceplate raised at the moment. "Ah, South Carolina. It's good to see you," she said extending her hand. "It's nice to see they let you out of heaven from time to time."

"Medusa," South replied shaking her hand. "It is likewise good to see that the last few months haven't taken your sense of humor from you. I assume that the boats carrying North and the others are close if you sent Argo…" South's voice trailed off as she realized the submarine had disappeared on her. "I could have sworn she was right behind me."

"Argonaut never even entered the room." Medusa said after a quick laughing fit over the battleships confusion. "She poked her head in, took one look at all the people in here, and booked it like she had just realized she was in the destroyer barracks."

South just shook her head. "Poor dear, I don't think I've ever met someone that shy, even compared to her sisters and cousins."

"She's a good kid though, and she has a pretty good reason for avoiding attention after what happened in her last life."

South Carolina just shrugged at Medusa's words. Every girl in the fleet seemed to have some sort of issue from their last life, the only difference being how well they hid it. Some buried themselves in responsibility like Sully, while others acted like the purest embodiment of chaos. And lord knew she had more than a few issues herself. "So, what are we looking at for wounded? I got the initial damage reports before Chris sent me to get a few hours shut eye before they got back, but I want to hear what you think."

"Like I told admiral Enfield. Your daughter's the worst off out of any of them, as one would expect from someone who was in her spot. Nothing's truly life threatening, but the damage she has is both widespread and pretty severe."

"So how far out are they?"

"Less than five minutes." Medusa replies. "Now put this on. I'm going to need your help in hear with all the wounded coming in."

"You know I'm not a repair ship like you, right?" South asked. "North's systems are almost 40 years newer then mine."

"You're also the only other ship who has damage control crews familiar with battleships." Medusa replied, an uncharacteristic tension in her voice. "I'm going to need some extra hands on this one, and we both know that for all the good the human docs are with actual humans, they're about as useful in putting our bodies back together as I am in a gunfight. I already have the mechanics fixing their rigging, but it's up to the destroyers, you, and myself to fix the injured ourselves."

At that moment, Argonaut popped her head back into the room. "They're here ma'am." The navy blue haired girl said before disappearing back into the hall. The effect of the news was almost immediate. One by one the various personnel in the room began leaving it, partially to avoid being in the way as well out of respect for the girl's modesty.

Minutes later the parade of wounded Fleet Girls began. First in was Laffey, her wounded shoulder in a sling and swathe. Though she was showing signs of shock, her face still held the grin she was known for, the corners only slightly bending down as Johnston and Medusa lowered her into the bath.

Next came Kidd, who walked in unassisted, nursing her bandaged left hand. She made her way to a more secluded part of the bath to begin unwrapping the bandages surrounding her splinted fingers and let the water soak them.

Next came Sully, supported by both Hoel and Hermann. By this point the destroyer could barely keep herself upright due to her injuries, stumbling and bouncing between her helpers like a ping pong ball as they guided her to a bath. Looking at Sully, South wondered how bad her daughter's injuries were if she still rated priority treatment over the destroyer.

South soon got her answer as Augusta and Northampton crews carried North into the room on a backboard. North's NWU top had been removed at some point during the journey back, revealing the navy-blue tank top she was wearing underneath. The battleship's skin was little more than a mass of bruises, with bandages covering her head and abdomen. Medusa quickly directed them to an offshoot that served as an operating room of sorts for more damaged Fleet Girls.

South Carolina briefly hesitated as she followed them into the room, dreading every step as she neared the doorway. She forced herself forward though, for it was her responsibility to do so. She had helped take her daughter apart, so it was only fair that she help put her back together.


	11. Chapter 11

'Well this was a god-awful mess.' Medusa thought to herself as she and South Carolina began the repair work on North Carolina. Even as she cut away the lower portion of the tank top the 37,000-ton battleship was wearing, she could see that North's inexperienced damage control crews had vastly understated the extent of the damage north had suffered.

"Hey." she said, trying to get the attention of North's Damage control fairies. "Which one of you geniuses relayed the damage report?" The offending fairy muttered a "Hey", not daring to look at the rather cross repair ship. "Well I want to know what you consider minor damage, because an exploding magazine doesn't count as minor in my book."

"MAGAZINE EXPLOSION?!" she heard South Carolina shout from the doorway. "How is she still alive?"

"It was just one of her secondary magazine's ma'am." Medusa said, her voice much calmer than it should have been given what she was doing. "Nothing a little spit, elbow grease, and acetylene can't fix." Even from a quick glance though, Medusa could tell South didn't share her optimism. "Listen South, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to."

"No." The battleship said, still sounding rather depressed at the sight of her daughter lying unconscious on the operating table. "It's a mother's job to help her children, and if I can't do that on the battlefield I will surely do so off of it."

"Then get over here. I need someone to help me hold open this wound while our fairies start shoring up her damaged compartments."

South gingerly did as Medusa commanded, her completion growing noticeably paler as she looked over her daughter's broken body. "Are all these bruises…" she began, struggling to find the words to complete her sentence.

"Non-penetrating hits." Medusa assures her. "Those we can let the baths take care of. It's the inside bits I need to worry about."

"Like the water coming out of the wound." South replied rather alarmingly. Sure enough, the dark crimson fluid leaving the would looked rather less pronounced in color, clearly diluted by something.

"It's just run off from the other magazines that North's gun crew flooded." Medusa responded after thinking about what it could have caused the water. "The damage is well above her waterline. It's a good thing they did that too. Had those other magazines cooked off, half her port side would have been blown sky high." Medusa watched as South shuddered, either at the mental image that brought up or because she was looking at the damage first hand through the eyes of her fairies. She still made herself a mental note to watch her word choice around South in the future.

"I still don't understand how this happened though" South remarked. "At that range, North's belt and deck armor should have at least decapped the shell if not outright stopped it."

"Had the shell actually hit her belt or her deck, I might agree with you." Medusa retorted her eyes now closed as she watched the repair work through her own fairies' eyes. "This was a golden BB shot though. The shell hit her middle 5-inch gun turret square on. Those turrets had, what, 2 inches of armor plating in her old hull? Against a 16-inch shell designed to penetrate a foot of solid steel, that turret facing might as well have been tissue paper. With angle of fall and all that," Medusa shrugged. "It was a one in a million shot to make it into that magazine. We should be able to do all the necessary repair here so long as there isn't any… oh shit."

Looking through the eyes of the fairy in charge of the engine room repair, Medusa saw what she had feared the most. Several of the port side boilers had been damaged by shrapnel from the blasts, with gaping holes torn in them by the metal fragments that had made it into that compartment. The other damaged areas would easily heal by themselves or require maybe one or two more visits in the following weeks, but replacing boilers was a tricky and time consuming affair that required her to bring North back with her to San Diego.

"What is it?" South Carolina's rather stressed and worried voice asked as she watched the normally calm repair ship briefly lose her cool.

"Nothing." Medusa replied, regaining her composure. "OK something, but not anything you're going to want to hear about right now."

Opening her eyes again, Medusa shifted her focus from North's abdomen to her head, preferring to leave her fairies to their own devices when it came to their repair work. As she unwrapped the bandage from around North's head, Medusa heard a gasp come from South.

She could understand why too. Several cuts and bruises crisscrossed North's face and scalp. In addition, her left eye looked as if she had gone blind in it, no doubt due to the loss of both its radar, and optical rangefinders. Her right eye showed similar cloudiness, though less so than the left one.

"Relax South." Medusa calmly said as she checked the cuts to make sure shrapnel hadn't penetrated her skull/conning tower. "Head wounds always look worse than they are. Besides, the shells that hit her head were from that light cruiser's 6-inch guns. They couldn't even penetrate if they were put right against her noggin."

"Are you sure?"

"South," Medusa replied. "If there's one thing you battleships all have in common, it's that your skulls are so thick that I wouldn't be surprised to find out all of you were secretly German or Polish."

To Medusa's surprise, her joke failed to break the frown South Carolina had on her face. In fact, it grew upon laying her gaze upon North's eyes. "Is that normal for her eyes to look like that too?"

"It is when all the instruments that they rely on are shot out." Medusa said in return. "That shouldn't take more than a few weeks to heal. Though I'm sure you could give her a pair of your reading glasses if you're so worried about her not being able to see."

For the first time since North had arrived at the docks, Medusa saw the old dreadnought smile. "You know it's impolite to make fun of a ladies age?"

"Well, we all technically qualify for social security." Medusa teased. "Don't worry though, you don't look a day over 50."

-  
It continued like this for several hours as the repair crews from the two ships worked to fix North's battle damage. Anytime Medusa saw a gloomy look on South's face, she'd crack a joke to get her smiling again.

It was the same routine she'd used to keep you going her entire life. While her sense of humor might have made her of putting for some of the other girls, it truly was what kept her from going insane.

She couldn't tell if it was having the same effect on South Carolina though. While she smiled at every joke the old repair ship said, sometimes even giggling at them, her face always returned to a frown as their work continued.

"How long is she going to be out?" South Carolina asked her as they lowered North Carolina into one of the baths after closing her wounds. Even though she was heavily sedated, Medusa could almost swear she could see the tension leave North's body as it contacted the healing waters.

"The sedatives should wear off in a couple of hours. It's kind of hard to predict how long they affect these girls. A lot of this is trial and error."

"That wasn't what I meant." Medusa looked up at South Carolina. The dreadnought had seemed to age ten years since they had started the operation. Her eyes seemed duller than before, and the wrinkles on her face were more pronounced.

Medusa hadn't exactly been eagerly awaiting that question. She'd already tallied up the damage. The bruises on her body would be healed within a week, as would the cuts on her head. Her eyes would be back to normal in that time as well. North's internal injuries were a different matter though. Between the damaged magazines and boilers, North wouldn't be fully healed until a month's time had passed, and at least half of it would need to be spent in San Diego while Medusa replaced the damaged equipment.

She highly doubted that either Admiral Enfield or South Carolina would enjoy hearing that piece of news. South Carolina especially, given how stressed out she was about North's condition.

"I'll tell you later, after I have a chance to compile all the reports from my fairies and have fixed up the injured destroyers." She said, her voice never betraying the lie that it told. "In the meantime, I want you to go grab a shower and some chow."

"If it's quite alright with you," South Carolina shakily replied. "I would rather stay here and help."

"There wouldn't be much to do fixing those three up." Medusa replied. "There damage was more to their rigging then themselves. Besides you look like you could use a cup of coffee or ten and a nice shower. Now get out of here before I make it doctor's orders." She finished with a smile.

As the aging dreadnought made her way out of the docks, Medusa wondered if she had made the right call having the battleship help her with North.


	12. Chapter 12

With all the girls either over at the command center or returning from their combat sortie, the Navy Lodge felt eerily empty to Elizabeth Enfield as she sat at the coffee table of the lobby/day room.

One of the few civilians left on the base, Elizabeth was arguably one of the most important individuals there. While the Fleet Girls at most naval stations were put under the care of a Yoeman or Chief Petty Officer, at Pearl it had been decided that because of her work as a psychiatrist before the war, the Admiral's wife would be a better fit for taking care of the newest members of the fleet. That had turned out to be the right call too. Elizabeth had quickly realized that these girls really were… well, girls. Girls that needed a mother more than a babysitter.

With her own children living with her parents in Colorado, she was more than willing to adopt the returning Fleet Girls. She now acted as their caretaker, helping them adjust to modern life and their new bodies, as well as dealing with the trauma and stress caused by both this war and the last one. It was a role that Elizabeth was happy to fill most of the time.

Today though, was not one of those times. She always hated the days during and after a major battle. The waiting to see if whether or not the beds she had made would still be used in the coming weeks, that there wouldn't be a permanent empty spot at the dining table, gnawed on her. Sure, she knew just what the girls like North and Augusta could do, how they were able to take on the entire naval forces of the world, including what had been around before the abyssal had shown up, and win. But the abyssal could do that too, and they had numbers on their side.

"Good morning Dr. Enfield."

Elizabeth was so caught up in her thoughts she hadn't noticed South Carolina's arrival. Looking up though, she almost wished she hadn't. Before she could stop herself, Elizabeth let out a shocked gasp.

"I take it I must look absolutely dreadful." The dreadnought said sounding rather tired.

Elizabeth just nodded. The dreadnought looked as if she had just been an extra on the set of one of those zombie shows. South looked like she was running on empty, the bags under her eyes and disheveled hair being the two most obvious signs. Her NWU uniform top was rumpled and creased from being worn for over 24 hours, and looked to be soaked in a combination of brake fluid and motor oil. Having treated her fair share of scrapped knees, busted lips, and bloody noses, Elizabeth knew that the dark crimson liquid was blood, though she was afraid of who's it might be.

"Sit down." Elizabeth said offering South a spot on the couch. "I'll get you a cup of coffee and you can tell me about what happened last night."

South simply shook her head. "I'm needed back at the command center. I just came back here to take a quick bath and change clothes." She said making her way to the elevator. "I'll be out of your way shortly."

The elevator closed before Elizabeth could reply, leaving her to wonder what had happened the night before.

If Elizabeth had gotten the chance to ask South about what happened during the battle the night before, the dreadnought's answer probably would have been that she was better off not knowing. Even in the normally soothing waters of the bath in her suite, South Carolina wasn't able to finding solace from the thoughts that had been reverberating in her head since she had since she had left the command center that morning.

"North shouldn't have been the one on that operating table." A voice said as she brushed her hair in the mirror. "And had you done your job she wouldn't have been."

"Our Job," She told herself. "As members of the United States Navy is to protect the seaborne interests of our country and its allies."

"So why were your feet still on dry land while your daughter was being used as a punching bag by the abyssal?"

"Admiral Enfield needed a battleship for this mission. Without one, the Northamptons and destroyers wouldn't have stood anymore of a chance than the convoys escorts did."

"That doesn't excuse you from letting North Carolina fight alone. You knew how inexperienced she was, yet you let her fight your battle for you."

This fight had been going on in her head for the past few months, ever since she had been taken off frontline combat and sent to The Pentagon. While this might have spared her the physical pain that sortieing against vastly superior foes would have brought her, that pain simply transferred to what she felt when she read the after-action reports or ordered her daughters into battle.

"I had no choice in the matter." South said as she leaned her towel wrapped body on the sink in order to steady herself. "North's faster, better armed, and more heavily armored. If I had gone with her I wouldn't have been good for anything other than bait." She said to the mirror.

"At least then you would have done something important." Her reflection replied.

With that last comment by her subconscious, South Carolina felt a scream form in her throat as the months' worth of fear and anger that she had been forced to suppressed after taking the job at the Pentagon welled up inside her.

South Carolina's left hand buried itself in the mirror with a load crash. "What else do you want from me?" She asked the fractured image, tears now streaming down her face. "After all the blood and steel I've given to my country, what else… what else must I do?"

"It is not what else you must give, but to whom it must be given. You claim to worry about your daughters, yet have no problems about hiding behind their skirts to protect yourself. Fight in their place… and maybe then you'll deserve to be called 'mother.'"

South's reply was cut off by a knock on the bathroom door. "South," Elizabeth Enfield's voice carried through the door. "I heard a loud crash. Are you all right?"

"Yes. Just… give me a minute please." South Carolina replied as she worked to compose herself. While it took a few minutes to calm her mind, she knew that the worst part of that little spat with her subconscious was over.

Next South worked to fix the immediate problem with her current wardrobe. She closed her eyes as if concentrating, her brown hair floating as if a slight breeze had picked up in the room. She might not have liked her 'original' uniform, but it was certainly better to be dressed in that than a towel if she was going to be talking to the base commander's wife.

When she opened them again the bath towel around her torso had vanished. In its place was a light grey dress, the skirt of which flowed all the way to red stocking clad feet that sat in black dress flats. A pair of long white gloves with red accents covered her arms, tucking under the sleeves of her dress at the elbows. On her head sat a white sun hat.

Elizabeth Enfield was nowhere to be found when she opened the door, probably out of decency for what she assumed was a scantily clad battleship. " ," She called out. "You can come back in now."

"You know," South Carolina heard Elizabeth say as the door to her room clicked open. "I might need to borrow that look if we live long enough to have another social event here at base. Might even work great for my daughter for her junior prom next year."

South Carolina chuckled. "It's not the most practical apparel for combat, but I will agree it's better than what passes for modern dresses." Both moms shared a giggle at their 'old fashion' ways. As South brushed her hand against her dresser though, a jolt of pain shot through. The Dreadnought instinctively yanked her hand back, clutching it with her right hand as she sharply inhaled.

"Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked, genuinely concerned for the battleship.

South Carolina looked at her left hand again, splotches crimson already appearing as her blood soaked the white fabric. I must have cut myself when I hit the mirror. She thought to herself.

"If you would please." South said, wincing as she pulled the glove off. "I slipped getting out of the bath, and well…super strength is great until you accidentally put you hand through the mirror trying to catch yourself."

Elizabeth gave South a rather skeptical look as she walked over to look at the cut on South's hand. "You really did a number on it." Elizabeth said as she checked the cut and cleaned a few small shards of glass from its edges. "Keep that glove pressed to it and I'll be right back."

Elizabeth walked out of the room, returning moments later with a small box of bandages. "Hold still for a second." She said wrapping the wounded hand with a roll of gauze. "Now I'm not Medusa or Vestal," Elizabeth began. "But I don't think you'll need to spend very long in the baths to fix this good as new."

"You see me to have this down to a science." South Carolina commented. "I take it you have had a lot of practice?"

"You know how destroyers are. It's all fun and games until someone gets a broken nose or bloody lip, and after that it's just fun." Elizabeth replied with a smirk.

"Well thank you." South Carolina said. "I should probably get going now. I'm sure the admiral needs me to get the after-action reports started or the Pentagon briefed about what happened during the battle."

"After you eat breakfast here of course." Elizabeth said with a smile.

South Carolina gave her a rather nervous look. "I'll just grab something at the mess hall." She replied. "I'm sure I'm going to be needed back at the command center."

"I insist." Elizabeth said, grabbing South's arm to make it clear this wasn't up for discussion. "I'm sure the base will survive without you for another hour and I need to head down there myself. Besides, you look like you could use an actual meal."

"If you insist." South Carolina said, finally admitting defeat.


	13. Chapter 13

As much as she hadn't wanted to admit it, a nice, proper breakfast was just what South Carolina needed. She couldn't remember the last time she had time for one. Ever since she had moved to The Pentagon, South had buried herself in her work, only giving herself enough time to grab a quick bite at the cafeteria or 40 winks in her office before resuming her work. While the cafeteria was top of the line, nothing quite beat a home cooked meal.

What surprised her the most about it was the variety. Fresh fruits and juices, sizzling bacon, even the eggs were the real deal rather than the powdered garbage she had expected to see at a base this far from the continental United States. "Where did you get all this?" She asked Elizabeth.

The doctor smiled as she laid out one last plate, this one piled high with fresh pancakes. "The pancakes and bacon are cutesy of the United States Navy, the fruit comes from farms all over the US, and the rest is donations from the residents of Oahu."

"I thought…" South began before Elizabeth cut her off.

"The evacuation only applied to the family members of active duty personnel at Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam. The islanders were encouraged to evacuate to, but well… more than a few prides themselves on the fact that their families didn't leave after the Japanese came knocking in 41, and don't they don't plan on leaving now." She caught the look South was giving her. "I know, but as one of my professors said 'stubbornness is an inherent human quality. To try and deny it is to try and not be human.'"

She shrugged. "The islanders are friendly though. They seem to like having the girls here, and are more than willing to help provide them with whatever comforts they can. It's not enough to live off, so we still need to really on the military for most of our food stuff, but for special occasions like this." She said motioning to the table.

"You make a meal like this after every battle?" South asked.

"Yes." Elizabeth said. "I've seen the toll these combat missions take on Chris, and he only watches them on a television screen. I can't imagine what it's like for the girls like yourself who have been in the thick of it."

"It's what we were built for ma'am." South replied. "Though I'm sure the girls appreciate it all the same." She added before taking the first bite of her breakfast. Unlike her younger compatriots, who stuffed their faces as fast as they could swallow the last portion, South preferred eat one bite at a time like a proper person. She nearly reconsidered after taking a bite of the pancakes though.

"These are delicious." She said after swallowing. "May I ask what you made these with?"

Elizabeth smiled. "It's only pancake mix and homemade apple sauce. They're Johnston and Hoel's favorite type of pancakes."

As if on que, the two heard the lodge's doors open, followed by the pitter-patter of feet. The three Taffies plowed to a stop at the doorway to the dining area, Johnston and Hoel using the doorway itself more than their own free will to arrest their momentum. The three destroyers looked like they had come straight from combat, their uniforms still speckled and streaked with their sister's dried blood. "Food!" they shouted in unison, a call echoed by Augusta and Northampton a distance behind them.

The three destroyers ran towards the table only to be stopped by Elizabeth. "Now, now," she said. "You know the rules. Wash up first, then you can eat."

As the destroyers sulked out to get cleaned up, Elizabeth just shook her head and smiled. "Some days it's like I'm raising my own kids again."

"Sure is." South Carolina said with a frown as she picked at her meal.

-

The destroyers arrived back at the dining room 15 minutes later, wearing fresh uniforms with hands and faces thoroughly scrubbed. After one more inspection by Dr. Enfield, they began digging into the assorted plates with the same reckless abandon they had when engaging an enemy battle line. The cruisers, opting to take the time to shower much like South had, were a few minutes behind them.

"Thanks Missus E." Johnston said between bites.

"No problem Johnston." The doctor replied, mentally noting that Sully, Kidd, Laffey, and North Carolina were absent from the morning's meal. Guess that explained why South was in such a bad mood earlier. "So where are the others?" she asked, hoping the news wasn't too grim.

"Sully is currently trying to type up an AAR while suffering from a head wound." Augusta replied. "A light cruiser got lucky and pegged her in the noggin with a 6-in shell. Same cruiser put one into Kidd's left arm. She's trying to spellcheck Sully's work as we speak, but with the concussion Sully sustained, she definitely has her work cut out for her.

"Laffey took one to her number 2 turret." Northampton added. "Little squirt's probably already re-dislocated her shoulder by now."

"Don't you mean fix her shoulder?" South Carolina asks.

"No," Elizabeth replies. "She means re-dislocated. Laffey tends to take Medusa's medical orders as 'suggestions.'"

"Might not though." Heerman said. "When we left them, Medusa was in the process of mummifying her." The image of the rambunctious destroyer, only semi-jokingly called "The Taffy's Spirit Animal", lying in the baths like a mummy in its sarcophagus brought a smile to everyone's face.

Those smiles disappeared with the next bit of news though.

"North's laid up pretty bad as well." Augusta said. "Her torso's wrapped up pretty tight, and it looks like she took a good hit to the head from the same cruiser that hurt Sully and Kidd as well"

"Sounds bad." Elizabeth said. "What happened to her?"

"She was in charge of keeping the enemy battleship occupied long enough for us to deal with its escorts." Northampton replied. "The two of them got into a slugfest. North did good work though, broke a cruiser in half with her second salvo and beat that abomination of a BB senseless. You should have seen her ma'am." She said turning to South.

"I did." The suddenly very cross dreadnought replied. "Just like I saw you taking your time eliminating that other cruiser while it used my daughter as target practice."

"So those things threw us a little loop, its not like that light cruiser could seriously hurt North." Augusta said. "Like I said, that head wound probably did little more than ring her bell. Her bodies the same way, it is more bruises than anything else."

"It didn't look like that when I helped Medusa put her back together." South said.

"Then I don't know what to say." Augusta replied with a sigh "You of all people should know that this is part of our job… or has your time behind your desk made you forget what we were built to-"

"Augusta" Elizabeth said cutting her off, the irritation just noticeable in her normally sweet voice. "May I suggest you drop the subject for the time being. This is a rather nice breakfast you're ruining right now."

"It's all right Dr. Enfield." South Carolina said standing up. "I have some work I need to take care of before I head back to the ops center." With that, she began making her way back to her room.

"I don't see what her problem is." Augusta said after she was sure South was out of earshot. "She knows better than anyone else that what happened to North is part of our job.'

"Is that so?" Elizabeth asked.

Augusta snorted. "We all heard about what she did off The Outer Banks. Putting herself between an abyssal battleship and a convoy to buy it enough time to escape and getting shot to pieces in the process, isn't stuff like that what the navy keeps saying we're here to do? All that thin grey line bullshit about how we're the only things keeping the world safe."

"It's a little different when you're watching it on a television screen a hundred miles away from the action." Elizabeth said. "I'm sure you'd think differently if you were stuck here while Northampton was out fighting and bleeding out in the field."

"That would imply I'd ever let myself get stuck behind a desk like she has." Augusta said in disgust. "And the day that happens will be right after I volunteer to work with the IJN or the Chinese. If she's so worked up about seeing her daughters hurt, then maybe she should start fighting with them again."

-

The faint clattering sound of someone pecking away at a keyboard could be hear emanating from South Carolina's room as she worked out the final detail of her plan.

She knew her daughters, West Virginia and Maryland especially, wouldn't like what she was about to propose to the Admiral Enfield and the Joint Chiefs. Wisconsin, Missouri, and North when she eventually woke up, would likely be a little more understanding. They knew firsthand how bad the situation on the Pacific truly was, and how they needed every fleet girl they could get.

The Joint Chief's and the admiral wouldn't be nearly as hard to convince. Her time here had shown her just how desperate things were. Enfield was expected to pull off a miracle with whatever scraps the Pentagon threw his way. She knew he'd be willing to use anything with an armor belt and guns that could reach out past 15,000 yards if it meant holding on to Pearl for a few more weeks.

The Pentagon would be even easier. While they might have happily accepted the PR boost having a fleet girl there had brought, it was a well-known fact inside it that they had only done so because of pressure from West Virginia and Maryland. While she was there she was little more than a rubber stamp. With her volunteering for frontline combat, and therefore taking all the responsibility off of their hands, the Pentagon would gladly wipe those same hands clean of this affair.

Truthfully she hadn't planned on this happening, or even hoped for it for that matter. As much as she wanted to be back in the field, she never wanted it to be at the expense of one of her daughters. What she wanted was to fight beside them again, to add her own armor and guns to the wall they made protecting America's coasts.

And though it wasn't how she had wanted it, she never less had her opportunity to do so. With North Carolina out of commission for the next month, even her daughters would have to accept that she was needed at Pearl.

South smiled as she finished typing. _Soon,_ she thought. _I'll be worthy of being called mom again._


	14. Chapter 14

"Give it to me straight doc," Admiral Enfield said to USS Medusa as the later walked in to give her report on injured members of his command. "How long are my girls going to be out of the fight?"

Neither person was ready for this part of the post-battle routine. Despite the 5 hours of sleep she had gotten on the plane ride to Pearl-Hickam, the toll of spending several hours performing multiple back to back surgeries was beginning to show. Her coveralls were rumpled and stained with the blood from the various operations, the same going to the once-red bandanna that now hung out of her right breast pocket.

Her shoulder length green hair had taken full advantage of its freedom, with the only efforts by Medusa to keep it in check being to brush her bangs behind her ears. Her face showed traces of her work as well, though the girl had at least attempted to clean it before making her way to the admiral. In addition, her eyes seemed to have lost the sparkle they had held mere hours before.

Admiral Enfield didn't look all that better. Though he had taken the time to change into a set of service Khakis, the bags under his bloodshot eyes and slouched body posture made it clear he was running on nothing more than coffee, food, and the knowledge that there was too much work left to do to even think of waiting until tomorrow to finish it.

"USS Sullivans has a nasty gash on her forehead and a grade 2 concussion, both of which should be in the process of healing by now." The repair ship began. "She'll be out 4 days. Kidd's hand is in a soft cast splint. We got lucky with her though. The damage wasn't as severe as I expected and I managed to reconstruct most of it. Provided she doesn't do anything stupid to injure it she should be back in the fight in a weeks' time. Laffey's shoulder's back how it's supposed to be and her wounds should heal in about 10 days or so.

"Assuming she doesn't re-injure it again in that time." Admiral Enfield replied, remember the last time the rambunctious destroyer got injured in combat.

The words had barely left his mouth when the admiral noticed the mischievous smile that now graced Medusa's face. "I learned my lesson from last time sir. If she can manage to reinjure herself while her entire upper body is in a hard cast, I'll eat my entire tool belt."

Enfield just nodded. "So, what about North Carolina?"

Medusa let out a sigh as she prepared to deliver the worst news of the day. "North's going to be out a month at least and that's if everything goes well at Dago. The damage was a lot more severe than I originally thought. That hit took out most of her port-side secondary battery, and the damage from the secondary explosions there gutted her. My fairies found damage to several of her boilers, as well as the piping connecting them to her turbines."

Admiral Williams sighed and gave her a look of annoyance that she had seen from every admiral still stationed in the Pacific. "How long will you need to get her prepared for the flight back to San Diego?"

Medusa shrugged as the words hit her. She knew the tone they carried wasn't meant for her, but for the situation he was now in. The Navy was trying to cover two coasts with a navy that could barely cover one, and while the Atlantic Fleet at least had the Royal Navy to assist them, their Pacific counterparts had little more than a handful of Canadian Fleet Girls to help them out.

As such it was often imperative that the few girls they had were quickly brought back into service after a fight. Even the loss of a single destroyer for a significant amount of time would effectively sideline a base, to say nothing of the losses that Pearl had suffered holding the line last night. "About 20 minutes at the most. I still have her sedated from the initial repair work and all my equipment's already been packed up. The only thing I'll need help with is transporting everything back to the plane."

"I'll see what I can do about getting you some help, as well as having that transport ready to go by the time you get down to the airfield."

"Thank you, sir." Medusa replied. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you what you wanted to hear. I'm sure you were hoping for better news than that."

Admiral Enfield simply turned his hands and raised them in a 'what can you do' gesture. "You kept her alive Medusa. I can't expect much more than that."

"If there's any consolation sir. She should be able to return to Pearl in a couple of weeks, she'll just be on very limited duty while the hole I'm going to need to cut in her hull to repair the boilers heals."

Enfield just shook his head. "Keep her there." He said. "If the situations desperate enough that I have to send a ship into battle with a compromised hull, I might as well evacuate Hawaii while I'm at it. Now I suggest you get on your way Medusa. The sooner you get back to the docks at San Diego, the sooner North can be back here in fighting shape."

"Yes sir." Medusa said before firing off a salute and walking over to the door. Once she got to it though, she turned back around. "Do you have any idea how South Carolina's doing?" She asked. "She seemed a little shaken up after North's surgery."

"She seems well enough right now. In fact, she's already submitted a transfer request to stay here until North is combat operational again."

"If you say so sir." A resigned Medusa said as she left the room, still wondering if she had made a mistake having her help in North's surgery. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice South approaching until the dreadnought called out to her.

"Everything ok Medusa?"

At first glance, one would have been easily excused if they had assumed the battleship, dressed in her Summer Whites, was simply one of the admiral's secretaries. It wasn't until one got closer that they would have noticed the shoulder tabs and color insignia of a Rear Admiral (Lower Half) on the uniform shirt.

"Yes." The repair ship lied. "I was just thinking about what I could do to speed up your daughter's recovery."

"How long is she going to be out for?"

"A month if we go by the best-case scenario. Heard you're already stepping up to take her spot." Medusa said, doing her best to hide the concern in her voice.

South put a reassuring hand on Medusa's shoulder. "It's only going to be until she gets back. I promise I won't be out in the field a second longer than it takes for her to get her feet back in the ground here."

Medusa bit her lip, knowing that it wasn't her decision whether or not South would serve in her daughter place, despite whatever misgivings she might have. "Just don't do anything stupid, Ok."

"Are you sure about this South?" Admiral Enfield asked South Carolina as he read over her transfer request again.

Enfield would have been lying if he had said that South's transfer request had come as a surprise to him. Even without what Medusa had told him during their conversation, South's behavior during the battle was that of someone who hated sitting behind a desk while other fought for them.

What had surprised him though was the speed at which the approval for her transfer had come from The Pentagon. There had been rumors that her placement as an aid to the Joint Chiefs had been pushed through with more than a little pressure for West Virginia and Maryland, but to send her back out to the front lines after what happened her last sortie… _Either Pearl was more important to the higher ups than I first thought._ A voice in the back of his head told him. _Or more likely, they were using this as an opportunity to remove the elephant from the room._

"Absolutely sir." The dreadnought responded. "As I'm sure you've surmised from the speed at which the Joint Chiefs approved the request, they have no real need or use for me there. In addition, we both know you're going to need my help here at Pearl. North's going to be out for a month at least from what Medusa told me, and if I had to go off my experiences from the Atlantic; Sully, Kidd, and Laffey are all going to be out for at least a week. In addition, if we use events in Seattle and Panama as any indication, we have a matter of weeks at most before Abyssal activity picks up in this region."

 _She's right._ Enfield had to admit. After Missouri and Wisconsin had been stationed at Seattle and Panama both stations had seen an increase in the numbers of capital ship type abyssal units that had attacked those areas. While no one knew why the enemy was content with only containing the remnants of the US Navy rather than the outright destruction of it, no one was complaining about the breathing room, no matter how minuscule it was.

"I suppose I don't have much choice in the matter." Admiral Enfield said. The truth was he really didn't have a choice either. Augusta and Northampton had barely been holding the line when the enemy was content just to throw cruisers and destroyers at them. Even if South was outclassed by her abyssal counterparts, she was still more likely to perform better than the two pseudo-heavy cruisers. "Well South Carolina, I appreciate your offer of assistance in my time of need. You'll be deploying with Cassin Young as part of Battle Division 1."

"Admiral…" A very confused South Carolina asked. "Isn't Cassin Young a destroyer?"

Enfield nodded. "Zumwalt class. She might not have the armor of a battleship, but that railgun she's packing outclasses even the 16/50's Missouri and Wisconsin have in terms of armor penetration and range. Add to that her reduced radar signature, and she's the best ship in the fleet that doesn't fit into a pair of NWU's. She's the only asset we have that is even remotely compatible with you."

"I assume you still want me to act as your secretary ship as well admiral?" South Carolina asked.

"If you think you can manage. Sully's going to be out for another couple of days, and you'll have a lot more free time than her given the patrol schedule the destroyers are going to be under for the next few weeks."

"Anything you need right now than sir?"

"Gather the submarines into the briefing room. I have a mission for them."

"I didn't think that Bowfin, Barb, and Mingo were back yet?"

"They should be back by now, they like to hang out in the harbor after a mission… The girls have some sort of fascination with the Arizona memorial."

"Is that so…" South Carolina replied, wondering what the subs would want with her daughter's wreck. "May I ask what you have planned for them sir?"

"Interdiction. I can't afford to wait for the Abyssal to come knocking on the door with North out, and I don't have the surface forces to put pressure any pressure on Midway itself. You might want to get a ride over to Hickam after you do that. Medusa should be taking North back to San Diego soon, and I'm sure you want to see your daughter before she leaves."

"Thank you, sir." The dreadnought said before saluting and heading for the door.

As soon as the door closed on South, Admiral Enfield punched a number into the phone on his desk.

"What can I do for you Admiral?" asked the gravelly voice of Captain Thomas Odinson, the current commander of Submarine Squadron 1.

"Are your boys up for a mission?"

"After two months sitting on our rear ends waiting for the ordinance boys to get our fish even remotely usable, you can bet on that sir. Not sure how much use we'll be for you though."

"For what I have in mind Tom, you should be plenty useful to me." Admiral Enfield replied, hoping that his plan would by him the time he needed to get North Carolina back.

There was little USS Bowfin like more than swimming in the nearly crystal-clear waters of Pearl Harbor, especially after a successful mission. While Barb might not consider a mission where she didn't sink anything a success, Bowfin knew that it wasn't always a good thing to take the shot.

As she lazily swam under the surface of the harbor a movement in the corner of her eye caught the Balao's attention. Turning around she found herself face to face with USS Argonaut. The V-Boat circled around her as if checking for damage before enveloping her cousin in what would have been a literal bone crushing hug if the Balao had been human. Bowfin didn't mind it all that much though. She was use to Argo's clinginess, especially considering that as the only member of Pearl's Sub Girl unit not to survive World War 2. Argonaut had a good excuse for worrying about the others' safety.

The V-Boat pointed to the wreck of the USS Arizona before touching her mouth with her index finger. _Arizona wants to talk to us._

Bowfin nodded before joining her older cousin in sailing to the wreck. Perched up on her number 1 turret sat the ships spirit. The girl's shoulder-length black hair, caramel colored skin, and uniform still showed all the signs of the last war, though her brown eyes brightened just a little as she saw the two approaching submarines.

The battleship pointed to the surface before pointing back to her old hull. Then she shot a quick thumbs up. _Saw the ships come back earlier, everything alright?_

Bowfin nodded before mimicking firing a rifle. _Had a battle last night…_

Argo ran her thumb across her throat before holding up seven fingers. _Seven enemies killed._

 _Any loses on our side?_ Arizona asked.

Argonaut shook her head before cradling her arm as if hurt. No one hurt. _A few injured though._

 _Who?_

Argonaut writes out an N and a C in the water before giving Arizona a thumbs down. _North Carolina, and it's pretty bad._ She then pointed to herself and Bowfin before pointing back to Arizona and then the surface. _We need you up there._

Arizona shook her head and pointed to her hull. _I can't. I promised my crew_.

 _Who cares…_ Argonaut began to sign something but Bowfin cut her.

 _We understand._ The Balao class sub signed before she led her cousin away from the battleship and towards the dock.

 _We can't force her to help us._ Bowfin chastised Argonaut as the stepped out of the water, the little conning towers on the two submarines heads turning back into baseball caps as they did so. _If we thought that would work, your sisters wouldn't have been so adamant about keeping this a secret from the destroyers and Northamptons._

 _Well we need to think of something,_ Argonaut replied. _Maybe we should consider talking to South about…_

Both subs stopped dead in their tracks as they noticed South Carolina standing in front of them.

"Everything all right girls?" The dreadnought asked, seemingly unaware that the two submarines had just been discussing her mere moments before.

"Yes ma'am." Bowfin responded. "is there something you need us for?"

"Admiral Enfield needs you two to gather up your siblings and report to the briefing room. It sounds like he has something planned for the six of you."

"Understood ma'am." Bowfin responded. As the two submarines made their way to the mess hall, where their siblings would most likely be, Bowfin made a small motion with her head back towards the departing South Carolina. _Later?_ She asked.

 _Later._ Argonaut agreed.

Index


	15. Chapter 15

You really think this'll work Chris?" Captain Tom Odinson asked as the two officers made their way down to Pearls briefing room.

"I do Tom, and we really don't have any other options." The admiral replied. We need to buy ourselves time until North can fully recover."

"Or until someone upstairs decides to feed us a few more table scraps." Odinson spit out in response. "But we both know how likely that is. Even if one of those girls showed up at Pearl, they'd likely order her to act as liaison to the Europeans before let us keep her."

Chris could feel the resentment emanating from his subordinate. It wasn't the first time either. There was general feeling that if this was World War Two all over again, the forces at Pearl had been cast as the Asiatic Fleet.

"Just means we'll have to rely on ourselves to hold the line. Which is why I'm counting on the silent service. Between our submarines and my girls, they're far more potent than the surface fleet at the moment." He replied, ignoring any protests Captain Odinson might have on that remark.

For the first time since it had been completed, the briefing room at Pearl actually looked somewhat full. Built to seat up to 50 in hopes that the first returning Fleet Girls would be followed by more, inside were the 14 surviving commanders of Submarine Squadron One, along with the six sub girls under Enfields command.

As the two walked into the room Enfield noticed that surprisingly, the two groups were intermingling with each other. Even Argonaut, the wall flower of the group, was chatting it up with a couple of the sub captains, and Bowfin and Barb were acting like longtime friends with the captains of the USS Buffalo and USS Columbia.

"I guess introductions won't be necessary." Chris said. "Now if only we could get the surface fleets to play nice with each other."

"The surface boys still have their teeth, even if they're not as sharp as they use to be." Odinson responded. "Whatever it that waylaid our sensors might have left your boys punching well under their weight, but it completely neutered mine. Even the old horror stories about the early Mark 14's still had times where they worked, which is more than I can say for the Mark 48 right now. Until they can either fix the damn things or build us a replacement, we're good for little more than recon."

He then shrugged. "Besides, they have a lot less to fear from those girls than your surface force does."

"Is that so?"

"Those girls can wipe the floor with any prewar navy and cost half as much. Would you really put it past congress or the pentagon to try use them as a replacement navy when this war ends?" Admiral Enfield just shook his head at Odinson's question. "Your girls haven't exactly dispelled that notion either. The Northamptons aren't exactly symbols of humility, and the destroyers are either crazy or too busy dealing with the messes the crazy ones create to make any new friends. The subs…they're a lot more sympathetic to our boy's issues given what they went through back in the last war. They've even tried giving us suggestions that worked for them back in the day. Hasn't helped much, but when it comes to inter-unit cohesion, it's the little things that count."

"I suppose you're right." Enfield said as the two stepped into the room. Almost immediately all conversation stopped as the room came to attention.

"Gentlemen, ladies, as you were." Enfield said, waiting for everyone to take their seats. "I'm sure most of you heard about the fight the gun club got into last night. The good news is that we eliminated the latest abyssal attack." This news lead to a chorus of cheers. "Unfortunately, our girls got shot up pretty bad in the process. Right now, we're down to the Northamptons and three destroyers, and North Carolina's going to be out at San Diego for at least a month repairing battle damage. South Carolina's offered to fill in for her, but even then, the surface fleet isn't going to be ready for another fight anytime soon."

"The only hope we have of holding on to Pearl is for us to keep the Midway Princess from building up her forces. This is where you come in. You're the only force I have that can get close to Midway without getting shot to pieces, giving you the perfect opportunity to thin out her numbers and buy us time to build up."

"I don't see how we can sir." The captain of the USS Tuscon said. "Without any working torpedos, we're nothing but a pair of eyes and ears."

"Which is why we're pairing you up with the fleet girls as hunter-killer teams. The LA and Virginia classes are leagues ahead of any World War Two submarine and undetectable by 1940's technology. The only way an abyssal destroyer will find you guys is if it runs you over. You'll track any abyssal activity and pass the info to the Fleet Girls for them to prosecute."

"In addition, it will be your job, with air force assistance after you've completed your strikes, to suppress the Midway Princess's air element by knocking out her airstrips with Tomahawk cruise missiles and conventional airstrikes. We'll be splitting you into two teams, two Virginia's and five LA's per group. One will be working with the V-boats, the other with Bowfin, barb, and Mingo. Are there any questions?" He was only greeted with silence. "Dismissed."

As he watched the submariners leave the room, couldn't help but smile as he watched his plan take shape.

Little did he realize his Abyssal counterpart was in a similar quandary herself…

"How could you fail me?" The Guadalcanal Princess asked the Midway Princess. "One measly convoy, protected by nothing more than a light cruiser and a few destroyers. Something that should have been well within even your ability to destroy. Yet you allowed it to go unhindered, despite my direct orders to you."

For her part, the Midway Princess refused to cower before her more powerful, and more violence prone sibling. The fact that the Guadalcanal Princess had ordered a personal report on the matter had come as little surprise to her, much like the tantrum her sister was now throwing. "There were complications."

"From Pearl Harbor." Guadalcanal sneered. "You told me yourself that this base was a nuisance at best, guarded by a pair of over gunned light cruisers and a handful of escorts. You told me your force would wipe them off the map if they tried to intervene."

"There was a battleship there as well…"

The Guadalcanal princess stopped in the middle of her tirade. "Explain."

"A battleship. One built during the last war by the looks of it. Before my taskforce died they reported it as a fast battleship armed with 16 inch cannons. The battleship I sent out managed to hurt the demon, but I don't know to what extent."

"You never reported such a thing before, sister." The Guadalcanal Princess sneered. "Wouldn't you tell me about something like that?"

"I would have had I known about it. As it was, this demon was an unknown variable as well." Midway responded. "It's most likely that steel hulled behemoth our Atlantic siblings gloated abou-"

Midway went skidding across the ground from the force of the surprise blow her sister delivered to her. "You dare blame your defeats on our sisters' victories?" The older sibling said walking over to her crumpled for.

Midway spat out a glob of black blood as she stood up. "I would hardly call a battle where the enemy gets a more powerful ally a victory. It's why I stopped targeting those old hulks after the two great demons appeared at the canal and The Pacific Northwest. You and I both know the only chance we have is to keep America weak until you and the others can take care of their allies. Every demon we give them, and make no mistake that's exactly what we're doing, means the less time we have before the insects banish us and continue their slow execution of our mother."

"How long will it take to build up the forces needed to eliminate this nuisance once and for all?"

"At least a month, possibly two given the limited resources you give to me. With this new demon in play I won't be able to simply overpower their forces anymore.'

The Guadalcanal princess seemed to stop, as if pondering her sister's assessment before giving a reply. "One month." She said. "I will increase the resources available to you, but in one month I want to see Oahu burning so bright the flames will visible across the entire Pacific."

Midway looked down at the ground, pondering her situation. "Understood sister." She finally replied. "I will do as you command."


	16. Chapter 16

**1335 hours local time. April 28th, 2021**

 **53 miles Northeast of Midway.**

 _It's good to be back out again_. Barb thought as she stalked the waters around Midway. One of the more rambunctious submarines in the navy's service, Barb had grown restless since she had first come back.

While she and the others played bodyguard at Pearl Harbor, cleaning up after the scraps left by the tin cans and their babysitters, the rest of the world was racking up kills. The Brits and Germans were racking up kills like crazy in the North Atlantic, the krauts going so far as to use that damned "happy time" moniker they loved. The same thing went for the Italians and the French in the Mediterranean, the Aussies near Indonesia and New Guinea, her own sisters and cousins in Washington and Connecticut... _Hell,_ she thought. _I wouldn't be surprised if those girls in South America have higher tonnages than me._

She missed the good old days of the last war, sinking everything the Japanese had dared let out on the water. And when they'd run out of targets to hit in the ocean, she'd joined her sisters and cousins in raiding the Japanese coast with immunity, even going so far as to land a part of her crew in an impromptu commando raid that had netted her a train to add to her flag.

Compared to that, her time in Pearl was downright boring... up until a couple of days ago. Ever since the admiral had given the order for this full court press on Midway, Barb had felt like she was finally herself again...

That she was a hunter again.

Bowfin, Mingo, and herself were making the most of this opportunity opened to them by the Nucboats' and Air Force's respective constant pounding of the island's airstrips and fighter sweeps. In the three days since the trio had arrived off the island, they'd already accounted for a pair of destroyers caught sailing solo patrols around it. Bowfin had found the first one to the southeast part of the island soon after they and their 6 LA class escorts had broken off into their three ship wolfpacks. Mingo, the weeb ninja kill stealing sister she was, had swiped the second one out from under Barb's nose.

So far Barb had to 'settle' for night time shore bombardment, though if that fireworks display one of her shots netted was any indication, she was willing to bet she was doing her fair share on that front. Now then...

"Three contacts." She heard the radio operator on Santa Fe broadcast. "Classifying as one light cruiser with two destroyers as escort, 31 miles northwest of Midway heading 66 degrees West-Northwest."

Barbs eyes lit up as she heard the message. She had the three all to herself. All she had to do was take care not to get spotted on one of those destroyer's sonar, and she'd have three of the easiest kills she'd ever had in either of her lives.

Sure enough, her SG radar set soon picked up the three vessels soon after. The three blips were at the edge of her radar, appearing intermittently at the very edge of her systems range. As she dove to periscope depth and got closer she saw that they weren't out hunting for her or the others.

The three-ship flotilla was running a racetrack pattern, still travelling close to twenty knots. At that speed, Barb knew they'd never hear her unless she was running at her top speed like an over eager amateur. At a steady two knots, she'd be practically undetectable to them, especially with the narrow window of detection their current course gave them.

Those things were probably here to intercept the bombers that were attacking from the mainland, probably trying to buy the Princess running the island enough time to finish repairing the runways. If they were given the chance to, those three ships would wipe out an air attack before it even began. Unfortunately for them though… those bombers weren't the only pieces of American metal heading towards them from the west.

It took her a several hours to get into position, even with the enemy remaining almost static in their position. She didn't dare speed up, lest one of the destroyers catch her on sonar. Several times she had to stop completely as the ships opened fire on something, most likely a MQ-9 whose operator got careless.

Finally though she was in optimal range for an attack, settling in at just under 5,000 yards. As she waited for the Abyssal to make their final turn she fiddled with the six throwing knives that sat strapped to her left arm.

 _Come on… just a little closer… aaaannnnndddd NOW!_

Barb threw the 6 knives at the abyssal crossing in front of her, before spinning around and doing the same with the 4 on her right. As they spread out in front of her, each knife grew until it was a quarter scale Mk.14 torpedo that sped towards the three ships mere seconds later the connected with their targets. Three plumes of water sprouted from the cruiser as the ship ground to a halt, listing hard to starboard. Immediately after, the destroyer that lead the formation broke in two from another hit.

As the last destroyer ducked behind the its sinking compatriots, Barb turned tail and started heading west, relishing the two Abyssal she had just added to her tally…

PING!

She felt her the wall of sound hit her, reverberating through her hull.

 _It's okay._ She thought to herself. _It's just searching. It hasn't picked you up yet. Just stay calm…_

PING! This time,the sound was followed by the destroyer picking up speed.

Almost on instinct, Barb cranked her dive planes as far down as they would go and flooded her tanks as she executed a crash dive. It didn't matter that if the thing heard her now, it already had a bead on her from its active sonar. She had just leveled out, her crew shutting down everything or securing anything that might make even the tiniest amount of noise, when she heard the destroyer pass over head, the distinct splash of depth charges hitting the water following in its wake. Several seconds passed as she floated in the depths, afraid to even breath.

Then her world was turned upside down as a series of explosions rocked her. Though the depth charges had gone off well above her, the blast had been powerful enough to leave her ears ringing. As her head cleared from the first attack, she could hear the destroyer turning around for another run, bent on avenging its sunken comrades.

This next attack was far closer as the destroyer began to find its range. By the time the explosions had stopped, her head felt like a church bell at noon and she could feel bruises forming on her skin. The next pass though, was even worse.

Even from 100 meters out, the shock wave from the last attack was more than she could withstand. Barb was thrown around in the chaos, knocked senseless by the pressure wave. As she fluttered on the edge of unconsciousness, her entire body was racked with pain. Piece of her wet suit had been torn off by the explosions, the bruised, purplish skin visible underneath. Her mouth tasted like blood, and she could barely hear anything over the ringing in her ears.

As the destroyer prepared for its next depth charge pass, Barb resigned herself to her fate. She knew she didn't have a chance survival. Either the destroyer would sink it through sheer persistence, or another of its kind, likely head towards her now, would finish the job.

Barb closed her eyes for what she though was the last time, expecting to hear the rolling thunder of her destruction, when the unexpected happened. She heard a pair of torpedo salvos pass over, followed by the sound of the destroyer retreating from the area. Soon after she felt something metallic brushing up against her. Opening her eyes, she could barely make out a large black cylinder in front of her. While it a few seconds for her muddled brain to figure out what it was, she eventually realized it was the conning tower of one of the LA class subs that had been working with her.

She felt the sub bump into her again, either checking to see if she was still awake or trying to get her to the surface. As carefully as she could, Barb emptied her tanks, her faithful minder hovering just below her as rose to the surface. Around 5 feet from the surface Barb released her rigging, letting the submarine carry her the rest of the way up.

As she broke the surface of the water Barb took a look around in the light of the late afternoon sun. Only the LA and herself remained, with even the wreckage of her victims having long since slipped below the waves.

The LA had no sooner finished surfacing when a hatch near her flung open, a navy-blue overall clad sailor popping out of it and rushing over to her. She tried to say something to him, only to cough up a blob of reddish-black blood. Without a word, the man scooped her up in his arms and rushed her back to the hatch, where he passed her down to another waiting submariner. From their she was carried to sleeping quarters and lowered into a bunk, a blanket placed over her by someone who was clearly one of the subs officers.

"Radio Pearl, tell them we've recovered Barb and that she'll need medical attention." She heard the man tell another crew member before turning towards her.

"Rest well, sailor." She heard the man say. "You've earned it."

-

As Santa Fe's message reached Pearl Harbor, the command center let out the collective breath it had been holding for the nearly three hours that had elapsed since the MQ-9 Reaper watching the three ship Abyssal flotilla had been shot down. By the time another one had been launched and made it to the area, two of the ships were on the way to the bottom, with the last destroyer pounding the ocean where one the subs had most likely been before breaking off its attack and heading back to Midway. For a brief moment, everyone in the room assumed the worst. That they had just witnessed the final moments of either Barb, Bowfin, or Mingo. They had needed the sub's message to dispel those fears.

"Thank god for Odinson's boys." Enfield said as he finally let himself sit down for the first time that day. "Barb might not be in any shape for combat, but I doubt Mingo and Bowfin will care about that detail."

"I still think we should hold off telling them until we can get the V-boats into position to replace their patrol." He heard South Carolina say. "They don't need that distraction right now." He turned around just in time to see the old battleship check her phone before putting it back in the pocket of her jacket. "Do you want me to go gather up the V-boats and get them ready to sortie early?"

"No. The Sub Girls are used to operating alone for extended periods of time. They should be okay for the few remaining days we have them scheduled to be in the area. Besides, you have something far more important that you need to take care of."

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about." South replied. "We're not going to be able to compile after action reports until after Santa Fe and Columbia return, and any awards I'm sure you plan on recommending the captains for are strictly under your jurisdiction."

"Which should give you plenty of time to talk to your daughters."

Enfield's comment seemed to catch South Carolina off guard. "I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about." She said rather defensively.

"West Virginia and Maryland have been sending me at least one email a day asking about you, since apparently you won't answer any of their calls or texts."

"They're just being overly paranoid. You know as well as I do they'll try to convince me to come back to DC post haste, leaving Pearl undefended."

"Probably wouldn't hurt to talk to them though, if for no other reason than to explain to them what the situation is."

"I don't think it will help much though." South replied. "Like I said, they're paranoid when it comes to my safety."

"I'm sure my wife would use some psychobabble term to tell you that they're just scared kids. Honestly you should probably talk to her as well while you're at it."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not going to leave me alone about this either?"

"Like I said, they've been bothering me about this just as much they have been bothering you." Enfield replied. "Now head back to the inn, we both have a lot of work to do."


	17. Chapter 17

On her bombed out island, the Midway Princess furiously watched as a lone destroyer limped into her waters. The ship was the only survivor of an attempt to ambush those blasted bombers that were laying waste to her airstrip and other facilities. Instead, they had been ambushed by a submarine, a turn of events that seemed to be happening more and more often in the past few days.

The insects weren't acting like she had predicted they would. Instead of retreating to lick their own wounds like they had always done before, the insects were pressing the swing in momentum the last battle had brought them, out of what she hoped was desperation.

Their bombers and missiles laid waste her airstrip and hangers so often, she rarely finished repairing the damage from one raid before the next one hit. What few PBY's she could get in the air, left with only their own machine-guns to defend themselves, were mercilessly swept from the skies by fighters that never gave them a chance.

Completing her containment were the submarines. The cursed specters added their own fire to that of the insects, the smoldering remains of a pair of bombers that had taken an unlucky hit from one of their guns standing as a testament to that. They also weakened the forces she had been able to conjure up since that last battle.

Normally these loses would be mere annoyances for her. They could be replaced in a week at the most, even before her sister had granted her better access to their mother's power. And with her sisters promised reinforcements only a day away, there would be little the insects and their specters could do to attack her with any real means outside of their bombers, and she had seen firsthand how limited their resources were.

No, the issue was with the plan her sister had forced her into. Given what she knew about the forces the insects possessed, even the battleships and cruisers her sister was giving her in addition to her own forces would be barely enough to insure victory. Every pawn she lost, every ship she had to replace, further narrowed the margin of error she had.

Had the order to secure Pearl been given by one of her more… sound sisters, like Wake or the twins that now guarded the Northern Philippines, Midway might have considered asking for a reprieve. They would have seen how unreasonable this order was and rescinded it, giving her time to build up a proper invasion force.

Of course, they would never have ordered the attack in the first place. Nor would they have expected her to intercept convoys while preparing for the attack. That would have been reasonable… and Guadalcanal was anything but reasonable. Midway knew that her sister, one of the first to return, hated excuses even more than she did failures. If Midway came back to her with anything but the heads of the insects in charge of Hawaii… well, she didn't like to prospect of that meeting. If she was lucky, her older sister would merely beat her again.

She was already doing her best to make the most of these new issues. She was focusing all her efforts on light cruisers and destroyers. Escorts would be a necessity if her forces were to survive the gauntlet of air and submarine attacks that she had no doubt would hit the invasion force before it even got near a surface fleet. While meant she would only have two battleships to counter the one known to be at Pearl, she hoped that numbers alone would carry the day.

Still, her mind wondered if there wasn't some other way to even the odds. Something she hadn't thought of yet to try and counter the gho-.

Midway smiled as the thought hit her. The one possibility she and her sisters had never stopped to consider. If the insects had managed to tame these restless souls for their own use, she surely could as well. All she would need to do was find some subjects she could manipulate to do her bidding…

USS South Carolina stared at the Skype login screen, her hands hovering over the keyboard of her computer as she sat on her bed. For the past hour, she had been working up the courage to log in and face the firing squad her daughters, led by West Virginia, were likely setting up for her.

"You know it's not going to bite you, right?" Elizabeth said from the doorway, where she was keeping an eye out for potential eavesdropping destroyers.

"Trust me, it's not the computer I'm worried about biting my head off."

"Your daughters?"

South Carolina nodded. "West Virginia to be exact. Missouri and Wisconsin should be a little more understanding of why I'm staying here, given that they're stationed in the Pacific as well, and I don't even know if Maryland is even capable being angry. West Virginia though, she's never liked seeing me in combat, and well…"

"She's a chip off the old block." Elizabeth finished.

"I was going to say stubborn as a mule with about as much subtlety as a company of marines, but I suppose that works too."

"She's also a scared little girl." Elizabeth added.

"How so?" South Carolina asked.

"South," Elizabeth replied. "You have to remember. She lost you once to the Washington Naval Treaty, and almost lost you a second time over near the Outer Banks. Now your stationed at one of the most dangerous bases in the world, and certainly the most dangerous station for a Fleet Girl in the United States Navy. Do you think she's going to just pretend that things are all right?"

"Of course not." South responded. "But that doesn't give her the right to tell me what to do. Pearl needs a battleship, and unless the CIA or DoD are hiding one of my daughters from me, which they better pray to god I never find out if they are," Elizabeth saw a brief flash of anger in the old dreadnoughts eyes at the last part. ", I'm the only battleship we have available right now."

"Which is something you need to point out to West Virginia, along with fact that this is only a temporary assignment until North can get back on her feet." Elizabeth said. "Honestly South, the longer you let this simmer the worse it's going to be."

"I suppose you're right Elizabeth." South Carolina said with a sigh. "Shall we get the court martial over with?"

Typing in her user name and password, the sight of USS Maryland greeted South Carolina almost immediately. The second of the Colorado class was dressed in a set of NWUs with her short auburn hair tied back into a pair of pigtails. At the sight of her mother, the battleship's sea green eyes lit up with excitement. "HEYMOMHOW'SITGOINGIT'SSOGOODTOSEEYOU." She blurted out as fast as her mouth could move.

"Slow down Mary." South said with a giggle, glad the happy go lucky standard was the first one she had talked to. "It is good to see you too. Now, if you would be a dear, can you please go find your sister so I can talk to her."

"Sure thing mom." Maryland replied while texting on her phone, this time taking her time to space out her words. "Just give me one minute." She added before bolting from out of view.

"She seems extra hyper this evening," Elizabeth said with a chuckle "I thought Standards were supposed to be slow battleships?"

"Well compared to North and ourselves, yes." A new voice with a slight southern accent added, followed shortly after by Missouri and Wisconsin appearing on the screen. "But then again, just about everyone who isn't a destroyer is slow compared to us. Mom, Dr. E, how's it going?"

"We're doing well." Elizabeth replied. "We're just waiting for Mary to find her sister."

"Finally facing the music." Missouri replied twirling a strand of her long snow white hair. "About time mom, Vee's been worried sick about you ever since we heard about your reassignment. Frankly though, another gun on the lines a good thing can only be a good thing, especially at Pearl. Right sis…" Missouri's comment seemed to fall on deaf ears as her blond hair sister stared at her computer, biting her lip in concentration.

"Wisky… Wiscoooonsin… Yo, CheeseNerd."

"In the middle of a match sister…" Wisconsin said absentmindedly before breaking out in a smile. "Gotcha."

"Rainbow Six?" Missouri asked. Wisky nodded.

"Valkyrie?" Another nod.

"Did you just wipeout the other team again… Jesus Wisky, at this rate you're either going to get banned from that game or get that character nerfed into the ground. Now, you mind joining us here so we can give mom a little support for when Wee Vee and Maryland come back."

"Has West Virginia been that disgruntled?" Elizabeth asked.

Missouri nodded. "I'm pretty sure that if she hadn't discovered that South put in the transfer request herself, part of the pentagon would probably be missing by-" Missouri stopped when she saw Mary return, West Virginia in toe.

Wee Vee, the last of the standards, had clearly seen better days. Numerous loose strands of black hair stuck out of her head, and her dark brown eyes were bloodshot with dark circles around them, all three curtesy of many a sleepless night. "Mother." She said, sitting down.

"West Virginia." South replied. For a moment, the entire chat went silent as everyone involved waited to see what was about to unfold.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" Vest Virginia said, her voice raising in pitch as she looked on the verge of crying. "Oh wait, I already know. You're only worried about being seen doing your part, regardless of what danger that puts you in and how any of us feel about it."

West Virginia looked at South accusingly. "I thought you told North Carolina and myself you weren't planning on going back into combat?"

"Wee Vee." South Carolina began. "This wasn't something I planned on doing. The only reason I'm still in Pearl is because they need me here, and it's only until North returns from San Diego."

"And then when Missouri gets hurt, or Wisky, or one of us…" she says motioning between her sister and herself. "You'll just sub in for us whenever someone has to take a trip to Norfolk or San Diego."

"Why shouldn't she Wee Vee?" Missouri replied, cutting off South Carolina before she could start her own defense. "She be a hell of a lot more useful out in the field than in that prison of a desk job you forced her into."

"The KG's did the same thing to Dreadnought, and as far as I know there hasn't been any complaints about that." West Virginia protested.

"Which is great," Missouri remarked. "Except the Brits have twice as many battleships as we do, and that's if you include South Carolina for our side, and have two powerful allies within arm's reach even if they don't all see eye to eye. We don't have enough capital ships, period, and sure as shit don't have nearly enough in the Pacific.

At least you girls have a British task force in Halifax to help babysit the East Coast, but we have nothing over here. The biggest thing the Canadians have to back me up is a trio of light cruisers. That's including the one who, bless her soul, is an ocean liner with a couple of six inch guns thrown on her as a main armament. It's the same thing with the South Americans, except most of their stuff makes South and Dreadnought look high tech… no offense mom. The Aussies, Kiwis and Japanese are an ocean away facing a full court press by the Abyssals, and in the last case we don't even know what they have beyond the few destroyers and light cruisers they use to escort convoys back and forth. It's easy for you to say that she's too fragile for frontline combat."

"And it's easy for you to throw her out on the front-lines when you haven't seen what one of those battleships can do to her." West Virginia shot back. "And don't talk to me about what you saw in the docks after Vestel got done patching her up after Roanoke." She added before Missouri could respond.

"She was shot to hell and back when we found her Mo." West began, tears trickling down her face. "She was dead by every definition of the word, Vestal even said so." She looked over at South the stream of tears growing by the second. "Did Vestal ever tell you the diagnosis she gave when we brought you to her that day? '50/50 shot of ever waking up again.' I was sure I'd lost you again. I… I… I just can't lose you-"

West Virginia began sobbing uncontrollably at that point. Mary moved over to help her sister up out of the chair, moving her out of frame. "I think we're going to call it here." Mary said moving to log out of the session.

"Sorry Mary." Missouri said staring at her desk. "I didn't mean for things to get that heated."

Maryland just waved her off with a sight smile. "She's been holding that in for the last week, and it's been eating her up. It might have hurt like hell Mo, but she needed that." With that, her screen went blank, Missouri and Wisconsin logging off soon after.

"Well, that went about as well as I expected." South Carolina said, for the first time wondering if she had really made the right choice.


	18. Chapter 18

What's going on?" West Virginia asked the growing crowd gathered around one of the TVs situated in the mess hall. Several people turned around, their faces turning into neutral masks as they saw who was standing behind them, as one they took a step back, giving her a wide birth.

 _Okay._ West Virginia thought as she made her way through the crowd. _Something weirds going on here._ As she reached the front of the crowd she found her sister Maryland. The super-dreadnought's face was awash with tears, her entire frame shaking as she tried to back out of the group. Saratoga moved beside her, the red headed fleet carrier putting her arm around Mary's shoulder, the battleship burying her head in Sara's shoulder as they turned away from the TV.

Now, West Virginia began to feel panic building up inside her. Mary was one of those girls who never seemed to be anything but happy. Even after those two kamikaze hits she took of Leyte Gulf and Okinawa, she still kept a smile on her face as she stayed on station while nursing her wounds. In fact, the only two times Wee Vee could remember her acting like this was after the attack on Pearl…

And when South Carolina almost bought it of The Outer Banks.

"Mary…" West Virginia said as the duo got close to her.

Sara looked up from the bawling Standard in her arms, the cheerful smile she normally had replaced by a deep frown. "West Virginia…" She began, trying to find the right words for what she was about to say. "Something happened at Pearl… your mother, she's… South Carolina…"

As Sara struggled with her wording, Mary just looked at her sister, the older Colorado's eyes seeming to stare right through her. When West Virginia reached out to try wake her sister from the trance she was in, Mary jumped from the carrier to her, wrapping West Virginia in a bear hug as she buried her face in Wee Vee's chest, her muffled sobs echoing through the now quite mess hall.

"She's gone sis." Mary said, lifting her face from West Virginia's uniform jacket. "Mom's gone."

"What…" West Virginia blurted out, staggering back both from the weight of her sister and the words she had just said. Looking up, she finally saw what was on the television. CNN was showing a montage of pictures the military had of South Carolina since she had come back in her human form. While she couldn't hear what was being said on it, the caption underneath the pictures told her everything she needed to know.

 _Hero Ship Sunk:_ It read. _Battleship lost defending Pearl Harbor from Abyssal menace._

"No…" West Virginia said as she and her sister collapsed to the ground, her legs limp as jelly in shock. "I told her this was going to happen. Why the hell didn't she listen to me?"

"She died a hero, Wee Vee." Remarked Sara in as reassuring a voice as she could manage given the situation. "Reports from Pearl are that she destroyed a battleship and two heavy cruisers before she went down."

"And that makes it okay Sara?"

"No Wee Vee. But…"

"But _nothing_ Sara." West Virginia seethed, her now watering eye fixated on the carrier. "She knew how much Maty and I worried about her. How certain we were that this was going to happen if she went back into combat again. Yet she still went right back into the meatgrinder, because of some stupid belief to prove she still belongs on the battlefield."

"She had no choice Wee Vee." Sara protested. "Pearl needed a battleship and there weren't any more to spare."

"Bullshit." Wee Vee replied, fuming. "Wisky and Mo were right next door, and even if they can't be spared, they could have always set Mary or myself over. It's not like York and Anne couldn't have covered for us for a month."

"But _no!_ " She continued, cutting off Saratoga's attempts to reason with her. "She had to go prove that she's one of us like some goddamn..."

"...Idiot!" West Virginia screamed as she jolted awake, sweat dripping from her face. Brushing her bangs out of her face, she looked around her darkened room, the only light coming from the digital clock that read 0445.

"It was just another dream, Wee Vee. Just a dream." She mumbled to herself as she laid back down, trying to shake that thought from her head. Staring at her alarm clock, she began debating whether she was better off getting up now or trying to 'enjoy' a few more minutes of restless sleep when she heard muffled voices whispering behind her door, which creaked open a second later.

"Everything all right ma'am?" One of her destroyers, USS Bryant by the sound of her voice, asked as the girl poked her head into West Virginia's room. "We heard shouting in your room and some of the other destroyers are worried about you."

"Just a bad dream Bryant." West Virginia reassured her.

"That's been happening a lot Wee Vee." Came Bryant's worrisome reply. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"Just a lot on my mind kid. Listen, you and the others give me a few minutes to get ready for the day, and I'll make those walnut pancakes you love."

While the squeal from half a dozen destroyers eager for breakfast and the correlating footsteps as they sprinted down to the kitchen helped wash some of the lingering jitters from her head, West Virginia knew she'd be doing this again soon. These dreams had become a nightly affair for her, and most were far worse than this one had been.

As she closed the door and made her way to the bathroom for a much-needed shower, she wondered how South could put her daughters through the stress and pain she was experiencing. How Missouri could keep a straight face and lie to their mother about how great it was to see back her in combat, in the meat grinder that was the Pacific theatre no less.

She had heard Missouri say it herself. They were on their own out there, running on an even thinner margin of error than what she and the others in the Atlantic were dealing with, and South had come within a hairs breath of dying while in service there.

Still, she knew there was no way for her to convince any of them that this was true, that South was a dead Fleet Girl walking as long as she was stationed in Pearl. They were battleships, and no matter the differences in personality they all had, they were all stubborn as hell when it came down to it. There was no way she was ever going to talk any sense into her mother. But she knew someone who might be able too, even if it meant she would owe some of her British counterparts more than a few favors…

Argonaut paced back and forth in her room, more desperate than ever to raise Arizona's spirit from the bottom of the harbor. She and her sisters had already heard about what had happened to Barb despite the admiral's best efforts to keep it under wraps… despite what the scout cruisers might have said, the Silent Service had always been the true eyes and ears of the fleet.

While Nautilus and Narwal were content with merely preparing for their turn prowling the waters off Midway, Argonaut wanted to make sure they never needed to be used as sacrificial lambs again. Her younger sisters might have called her paranoid at this point, but they hadn't been in Barb's situation before.

She had though. She knew all too well what it was like to be torn apart by depth charges, forced to choose between being crushed by the depths of the ocean or surfacing to become a sitting duck for waiting destroyers. While Argonaut was grateful for what the nuke boats had done to save her younger cousin, she also knew they had been just as lucky as they were brave and skilled, and there was no guarantee that luck would hold out again if she or any of the other Fleet Girls ran into a similar situation.

"Why don't they get it?" She growled as she laid back in bed, trying for the hundredth time to fall asleep. "We don't have time to wait for Arizona to decide to join the fight on her own, we need to convince her now before we don't have a base left to defend and something happens to her."

Of course, even if Argonaut knew _what_ had to be done, she didn't know _how_ she was going to accomplishment it. Taking this to the admiral was out the question, the subs had dragged dozens of sailors to Arizona's wreck after they had discovered her spirit there, and not a single one had seen anything they considered 'out of the ordinary'.

And while the other girls would probably see her, Argonaut doubted The Northamptons and destroyers would try to convince Arizona as much as drag her to the surface by force.

 _No. I need a gentler touch for this._ Argonaut thought. _A mother's touch perhaps._


	19. Chapter 19

If anyone had asked North Carolina what the worst time in her life had been a few weeks ago, her time in drydock at Pearl after taking that lucky torpedo shot from I-19 would have been her first choice. Between the pain of her wounds and her guilt over the fate of Wasp, O'brien, and the numerous ships lost in her absence, that period of time marked the lowest point in her life.

At least terms of physical pain though, her time in dry dock here in San Diego was giving it a good run for its money. She didn't remember passing out on the way back to Pearl, only closing her eyes for a second before waking up in San Diego, Medusa hovering over her and her body wracked by almost insufferable pain. Medusa had tried to explain how this had to do with the differences between her old hull and her new body, but like her anatomy lessons, the explanation just left her more confused.

The first few days had hardly been any better. Her head never ceased throbbing, even as the cuts and scraps from that light cruisers incessant pounding healed. Her eyes had barely been able to make out shapes and colors past a few feet when they had opened, though her vision was almost back to normal now. Likewise, moving had been next to impossible as each twitch of her muscles was met by a painful protests from the many bruises on her body.

Worse yet though, was the burning pain in her gut from the one shell that had made it through her armor. For the first few days, she had been in tears, the pain so immense she had been on the verge of ordering one of her fairies to light a flare in one of her magazines, if only to end her misery. To make matters worse, unlike the other wounds she'd suffered, this one refused to go away after a few days.

She knew part of it had to do with the extent of the damage, which had reached all the way to her engine rooms. The rest though, she blamed on Medusa's many surgeries. The repair ship was living up to her monstrous namesake as she opened North's wound on a daily, at times hourly basis. Medusa swore this was necessary to decrease her time spent in the docks at San Diego, and that she was almost done with those surgeries. But as far as North was concerned, she'd believe that when it happened.

It wasn't all bad though. Unlike last time, there were no friends to mourn, no crew members to bury…

And for the day at least, North seemed to have been given a reprieve from endless cycle of pain. Aside from a small crew of repair fairies working on her pipes and boilers, North hadn't seen a single sign of the repair ship all day. When pressed by her own crew for information on her whereabouts, the fairies had only shrugged and muttered something about her being called to another base for an emergency.

While North knew there was a chance that base was Pearl, she wasn't as worried as she was 80 years ago. She'd already found out just how far both military and civilian communications had grown since her last war, and if CNN, MSNBC, FOX, or any of the thousands of other news outlets hadn't reported a major battle in the last few hours, there probably hadn't been one.

 _And outside of a major fleet operation._ She thought. _I doubt Admiral Enfield would have allowed me to participate in whatever happened anyways..._

A childish giggle interrupted her train of thought. Turning around as much as her wounds would let her, North caught a glimpse of the girl serving her the grey sludge Medusa called a smoothie. North swore was expired fuel oil.

Just from looking at her, North could already tell she was a destroyer of some sort. There was no other reason a 14-year-old girl would be unsupervised in what was for all intents and purposes an ICU. As far what class she was though… whoever she was, North had never meet her or any of her sisters before.

Her uniform was a white blouse with dark green trim, a dark green skirt whose length fit South Carolina's definition of too short, and black thigh-high stockings. It wasn't something South remembered being in fashion, even in the 40's and 50's. The flower hair clip that adorned her violet hair wasn't something favored by Benson's, Fletchers, and their derivatives. _Maybe she's one of the Farraguts or Wilkes…_

Before she could ask the girl who she was, or even say hello, the purple haired was already halfway to the door.

"Hey wait…" She shouted, causing the girl to freeze in her tracks.

"I'm sorry." The destroyer replied turning around. "Miss Medusa has strict rules on us fraternizing with American Fleet Girls. I'm only supposed to deliver this food to you."

"Wait… why would Medusa worry about you talking to…" North Carolina's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place for her. "You're IJN aren't you?"

The girl's own eyes went wide with fear as North's question reached her ears, her body shuffling back. "I'm sorry. I should get going."

"Relax," North said as she tried to calm the panicking destroyer. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Really?" came the destroyers shaky reply.

"Listen," North reassured her. "I was a museum ship until a month ago. They used me to teach later generations about the war and how we won. I know we made you repay us for every drop of blood you made us spill ten-fold. I promise you, I have no more quarrel with you or your country miss…"

"Kisaragi," The destroyer said before bowing. "Second of the Mutsuki class destroyers."

"USS North Carolina. Namesake of my class of fast battleships." North said offering a handshake. "You know, you have some lovely hair Kisaragi."

"I know." Kisaragi said, blushing. "Too bad the sea breeze and battles are always ruining it."

"I know the feeling." North replied. "It's why I always tie it in a ponytail. Why don't you pull up a chair and sit down? I promise not to tell Medusa you talked to me if you don't."

-

"Afternoon Dreadnought. Sorry if I sound a little busy, I don't have a lot of time to talk." South Carolina said over the speaker phone across the room from her as she hurriedly changed into her dress blues. With Sante Fe and Columbia due in with Barb in a half an hour, she was hard pressed for time.

"Understandable my old friend." She heard Dreadnought reply. "And it's evening here in London."

"So what do I owe the pleasure?" South asked as she buttoned up her dress shirt. "We both know The US Navy doesn't have the resources to even cover the Canadian coast, much less sending forces across the Atlantic. "

"A fact that you have made clear more than a few times." Dreadnought replied. "I'm actually calling at the behest of one of your daughters actually."

 _West Virginia._ South Carolina thought as she fought to keep her internal thoughts from spilling out. _Of course, she would go behind my back like…_

"Don't be too hard on her Carolina. She's doing this because she's scared for you."

South stopped mid-internal rant as Dreadnoughts words hit her. "I know that Dreadnought. I just can't afford to worry about myself with my country desperate for any hull they can find."

"I understand that Carolina. Just remember to step aside with dignity when it comes time to gives others your place in the line."

"I don't remember you being very dignified when KG and Wales first pushed you to accept that posting in the Admiralty." South teased her old friend.

"That was before I saw look in their eyes." Came the solemn reply. "The one they held every time they patched me up after I took a hit they would have shrugged off with barely a scratch, the one of fear they had visiting me in dry-dock that the next time they would be standing over my tombstone…" South heard Dreadnought emit a long sigh. "I realized I wasn't helping them out there fighting with them, that all I was doing was making their lives hell worrying about me. I was too selfish to realize my time had already come and gone. I'm sure you have seen the same look in your daughter's eyes as well."

"I have, Dreadnought." South replied as she fastened her navy-blue coat and grabbed her peaked cap. "But that doesn't change the fact that until the rest of my daughters decide to join the fight, I am all my nation has to defend her shores. I must go now Dreadnought, busy day and all… And thank you for the advice."

"You're welcome Carolina, and stay safe out there." Dreadnought replied before the line went dead.

"I'll try old friend _._ " South Carolina said to the empty room before walking to the door. "But we both know I can't make that promise..."

-

South Carolina was no stranger to the pomp and circumstance that accompanied victorious ships sailing into harbor. In her old life, she'd seen her daughters return as conquerors in the Caribbean, victors in Europe, and travelers from exotic lands all over the globe. The practice, she had learned, had continued into the present. For a navy and a country staggering under a string of defeats the likes of which had never been seen in its history, any successful mission was something to celebrate.

Today was no exception. Sante Fe and Columbia, escorted by the V-boats, sailed into the harbor amidst a chorus of cheers from the masses of Navy personnel that now lined their docks. The crew of the Santa Fe, which currently housed a recuperating Barb, had gotten into the act as well, tying a broom to one of the subs communications antennas to signify Barb's success.

After docking was complete Barb, along with the commanding officers of Santa Fe and Columbia, boarded a launch that took them across the bay to Ford Island. There they found a crowd waiting for them that while not as large as the one by their sub pens, was just as spectacular. With the exception of the V-boats and a newly arrived Medusa, the Fleet Girls of Naval Station Pearl Harbor were in their Service Dress Blue uniforms as they waited with Admiral Enfield and his wife for their comrade to return to them. While it had taken South Carolina and Sullivans running their sterns off to get everyone into their uniforms, with a little help from Mrs. Enfield, they were both proud of the effort upon seeing the final result.

Even as the launch carrying Barb neared the slipway used by the girls, the look on her battered face as she laid eyes on her friends said it all. The trademark smirk she always seemed to have sprouted from her face once more. The boat had barely stopped moving when she jumped over the side onto the concrete, completely forgetting about the injuries she had sustained until the pain from her wounds brought her sprawling to her knees on the concrete, the two commandeers rushing to her side to pick her back up again.

"Commander on deck!" Admiral Enfield belted out as he raised his arm to salute the stricken sub, the members of his command following suite. Barb weakly raised her own arm to return the salute, though the attempt was far from anything one could consider proper. As everyone returned to attention, Nautilus and Narwhal bolted from the place in line, relieving the Sub commanders of their roles as Barbs support before walking her towards a waiting Medusa.

"Hold on a second guys. I need to give my report to the admiral." Barb said, hobbling over to Enfield with the help of her sisters. "USS Barb reporting on yesterday's combat sir. One light cruiser and one destroyer sunk by myself…" She said as a smile grew across her face. "And one destroyer scared shitless by Santa Fe and Columbia."

"I'll be sure to add that to the report commander. Now get yourself down to the docks." Enfield replied before turning to address the rest of the assembled fleet girls. "The rest of you are dismissed as well."

As the rest of the procession went back to their daily routines, South Carolina felt a tug on her sleeve. Turning around she saw Argonaut standing in front of her. "Heading to the docks to look after your little cousin?"

Argonaut shook her head. "No ma'am," She said before turning around. "I need you to follow me to the Arizona Memorial."

"Why for…" South inquired.

Argonaut paused mid step. "Because I need to reintroduce you to your daughter…"

-

The Midway Princess smiled as she and her sister Wake watched her new minions prepared for their unveiling.

"It's impressive what you've accomplished sister." Wake told her. "Especially given your... situation."

"The insects have a saying, sister." Midway replied. "Necessity is the mother of invention."

"Turning against us sister?" Wake teased, knowing full well that couldn't be farther from the truth when it came to Midway's resolve.

"While I despise humanity and it's many flaws, I have come to learn that their creativity and resourcefulness are not to be underestimated or disrespected." Midway replied as she watched the two battleships fire another salvo.

"Your success has already spawned others to try the same." Wake said. "The Atlantic triplets have selected another candidate, though I don't give them much hope of succeeding, given who they are pursuing."

Midway nodded. Truth be told, finding the right candidates had been the hardest part of this process. She couldn't use any of the American phantoms, for as plentiful and formidable as they were, forcing them to attack their old home port would have created… complications. For all the power these spirits held, they were ultimately unpredictable assets. The last thing she needed in her weakened state was a pair of berserk battleships rampaging through her atoll.

This left her with few options, as the majority of the Japanese, British, Dutch, and Australian phantoms had already chosen to return to their masters. Fortunately though, her sisters in the Philippines had provided her with a lead on two possible recruits. A pair of sisters, obsolete as soon as they had been built, sacrificed in what turned out to be the last gasp of a dying navy. While it had taken effort to find them in the eternal abyss, it had been well worth it.

Convincing them had turned out to be child's play. The older one, so focused on her short comings and failures, had been desperate for any sign that her life hadn't been in vain. All it had taken was one little lie, that her death had helped drive the cursed Americans back west, that her comrades had been victorious and were now on the cusp of driving them back to their own shore. She had offered them the chance to put the final nail in the Americans coffin, to do what the carriers had failed to do and burn Pearl Harbor to the ground. It was a chance the older sibling had jumped at. And with her, she had gained the other. The younger sibling, loyal to the older one to a fault, had followed her like a lost puppy.

With the two in toe, she had gone to Wake, who had offered her a place to train the two new additions to their fleet, away from the prying eyes and falling bombs of the Americans. While it was less than ideal for her, that last thing she needed was a bomber sortie or rescue attempt to derail her plans. Nor would them finding out the truth before the proper time bring them into the fold for good.

"Admirals," The younger sibling said as she sailed up to the two Princesses. "Have onee-sama and I performed well?"

"Yes Yamashiro." Midway replied with a smile. "Your training is progressing quite nicely." 


	20. Chapter 20

Even with a war on, the comings and goings of New York Harbor were little more than business as usual this pleasant May afternoon. Her citizens were a hardy people, survivors of both the worst mother nature and their fellow man had been able to throw at them. To them, the Abyssal were just the latest in a long line of individuals who thought they could take on this city, only to find out that this wasn't their average backwater stomping ground… This was _New York._

This isn't to say they weren't taking the threat seriously. The Boardwalk of Coney Island had long gone silent, the laughing children replaced by soldiers manning artillery positions and anti-aircraft emplacements that helped form a defensive line that straddled the harbors entrance. Similar positions dotted the various islands of the Long Island Sound, closing it off to any unearthly threats. Additional emplacements, mainly LAV-Ads, M6 Linebacker Bradley conversions, and other close-in air defense systems, were scattered amongst the Jersey City, Newark, and Manhattan piers. Even the long-abandoned Brooklyn Naval Yard no long laid dormant, though it's docks remained home to only a few damaged husks. It's role in the war effort was mere bait for Abyssal bombers intent on fulfilling a dead dream from the last world war.

And amidst this hornets' nest lay its nerve center and crown jewel, the former carrier USS Intrepid. No longer capable of joining the fleet in combat, the Essex Class carrier had instead been converted into a Command and Control center as well as a floating firebase. Her flight deck had been swept clear of aircraft, the museum pieces she had once housed left on the dock where she had once sat. In their place was a battery of M777 howitzers and Avenger short range air defense platforms. In her CIC center, mountains of computers and communications equipment tied the entire harbor defense together.

And amidst the army of people running this complex operation, one would have been hard pressed to notice the woman standing on her flight deck even with her peculiar wardrobe. Dressed in a set of Aviation Working Khakis with a yellow "Mae West" life thrown over it, one would easily mistake her for a reenactor… Had they been able to see her at all.

The spirit of USS Intrepid looked solemnly at the ships of the latest convoy and its escorts, a mixture of ship girls and frigates, as they passed under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. A couple of destroyer-class Fleet Girls raced past her hull towards Manhattan, eager for a day in the Big Apple after a long voyage. The American, a Gearing judging by the two-gun turrets she carried in each hand, looked up at her and waved as they passed, her Royal Navy counterpart offering a curt tip of her hat.

Intrepid waved to them as they passed, wishing she could join them. She knew her hull was obsolete, replaced long ago by the Super Carriers like Forrestal, Little E, and Kitty Hawk. Her engines were no longer functional and her flight deck too weak to support even the lightest jets in the Navy's arsenal. Still, she wished to sail again, fighting side by side with her Mama Sara and Auntie Lex, or seeing her sister Bunker Hill again. She yearned to hear the roar of engines, to see her birds soaring off towards distant targets.

She'd tried separating herself from her hull before, jumping down to the ocean below to continue the fight, only to find her feet acting like they were welded to her deck. So, she walked her hull day and night, watching the humans as they worked and fought, imprisoned by her old body with only her old memories to keep her company.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Intrepid was startled by the sound of her General Quarters alarm. All around her men scrambled to their stations. Down below, the destroyers guarding the convoy spread apart, the Gearing that had passed her hull earlier now standing by her as a bodyguard. The destroyer flashed her a thumbs up before returning her eyes to the sky over New York.

Intrepid's eyes joined her in searching the sky, anxiously watching for any sign of the Abyssal. She had always hated the waiting that came with air raids, the minutes between being alerted to an attack and the arrival of the assailants that only served to build the terror over what was about to come.

Off in the distance she could see explosions over The Long Island Sound as defenses there went to work against the attackers. A flight of four F-16's raced overhead towards the fighting, an additional flight circling overhead. Quickly joining them were the floatplanes of the various US and Royal Navy cruisers, a largely symbolic but welcomed gesture.

Thankfully though, they would prove unnecessary as the fighting died down to the north east. A wave of relief washed over Intrepid and the men aboard her as they watched what remained of the attacking force turn tail and run, only to have it replaced by terror yet again as the defenders at the mouth of the harbor lit up the sky with everything they had.

Within seconds a swarm of Abyssal aircraft, their black diamond-shaped bodies nearly unmistakable, rushed passed the bridge. By Intrepid's count, there had to be at least 30 of the hellish aircraft. The handful of fighters among them climbed to meet the F-16's and floatplanes diving on the formation, while bombers broke off into groups of twos and threes, looking for targets.

The human and Fleet Girl defenders, caught looking the wrong way, were slow to react to this new threat. A container ship at the mouth of the harbor erupted as two bombs buried themselves in its hold. The crippled ship drifts towards Newark, smoke billowing from its shattered bridge. Further in the harbor, a Canadian Frigate lists to starboard after a torpedo tears through its keel.

Even Intrepid wasn't spared, a damaged torpedo bomber slamming into her bridge, knocking the spirit onto the flight deck. As the carrier came to and wiped the blood from her eyes, her head spinning from the impact, Intrepid doubled over in pain as the bomber's torpedo struck home.

Fighting through the waves of pain and nausea she had not felt in almost 80 years, she pulled her hands away from her stomach, staring in horror as they came back drenched in blood. She fought to stand up, only to collapse back to the ground as her weakened body gave out on her.

Rolling onto her back, Intrepid could do little but watch as two more torpedo bombers roared overhead, their ordinance striking her hull a few seconds later. Numbed by the damage already caused to her, she barely flinched as the warheads tore through her aging steel. As quickly as the attackers had arrived, they were gone, leaving the defenders to pick up the pieces.

Had this happened during her service life, Intrepid had no doubt she could have survived this. Now, those blows were her death sentence. She could feel the life draining out of her as the torrents of water pored through her hull, overwhelming her meager crews' efforts to contain them. Already her hull was listing a dangerous degree to starboard, her pumps having given up the ghost by now.

All she could do was hold herself together for as long as possible. Buy those aboard her the time needed to get as many off her as they could. Crawling to what remained of her island, she propped herself against the burning structure as best she could, gazing out to the manhattan skyline one last time.

-

Anyone watching South Carolina as she skated across the crystalline blue waters of Pearl Harbor towards the Arizona memorial would have been hard pressed not to notice the battleships newfound joy at the prospect of seeing her long lost daughter again. Her eyes sparkled in a way only a mother could, and a thin smile graced her lips.

Even her pace betrayed her eagerness to see "Little Ari", as Arizona had quickly been dubbed by the other battleships. Her distinctive grey dress and silver streaked grey hair billowed behind her as she sailed across the harbor, one hand on top of her sun hat so that it would float away in the breeze generated by her movements. Behind her, Argonaut huffed and puffed as she swam through the water in chase of the joyful dreadnought, her diesel engines straining themselves in a failed effort to keep up South.

For South though, seeing Arizona again would truly be a cause for celebration. As much as she loved Missouri, Wisconsin, North Carolina, Maryland and West Virginia, and she truly did with all her heart, meeting them in her current bodies jut hadn't been what she had expected. None of the five had ever seen her before, with only Mary being in active service when South Carolina had been sentenced to the scrap yard.

Arizona was different. They'd meet before when World War One ended, South the old warhorse in the last years of her life and Arizona the newest member to the battleline with barely two years under her belt. The young super-dreadnought had been a combination of disappointment at not getting the chance to prove herself to both South and her older siblings and cousins, and relief that she would have to find out if she was truly up to the task. It was a moment South fondly remembered, much like her conversations with her daughters.

Coming to a stop next to her daughter's memorial, South waited, expecting Arizona to come sailing up beside her, or come running out to one of the piers used ferry tourists to her. To her surprise though, she was meet by the same silence that had permeated the site ever since the war started. On the off chance Arizona had developed a sense of humor and was playing a prank on her, South sailed a full circle around the memorial to see if she was hiding behind it. There too she found nothing but empty water, the memorial still as deserted as it had been that morning.

"Argonaut," she said sternly as she turned back to the panting submarine behind her. "I promise you. If this is some sort of game you and the other submarines are playing at my expense…"

"No ma'am." Argonaut replied, hastily back peddling as her eyes desperately scanned the wreck itself. "She's here, just not in the same way as you and I are... This isn't helping is it."

"No, it is not." South replied, glaring at the submarine as she stormed towards her. "If you cannot tell me what is going on Argonaut..."

"She's still on her old hull ma'am." Argonaut shouted, pointing at the sea growth covered hull under the surface of the harbor. Following the subs gaze with her own, South let out a gasp as she spotted the figure sitting on it.

Even at first glance she could tell it was her darling Little Ari. This only made the sad state of her daughter even more unbearable. The burnt edges of her once beautiful hair, the tattered remains of what had once been a gorgeous crème colored button-down shirt, short navy blue skirt, and white thigh high socks, and the blood that covered her midsection turning what little fabric remained there an opaque pink, it all stood testament to her failure.

"Can she see us?" South asked, her fury fading as she watched her daughter stare at the bottom of the harbor.

Argonaut nodded. "I can talk to her... If you want me to pass her a message that is?"

South gave her a curt nod. "Tell her I'm happy to see her, a-and I ... I am sorry I was not there when she and her sisters needed me."

The submarine gave he a nod before diving down to where Arizona sat. As the dreadnought watched, Argo pointed back to her before moving into a flurry of hand motions. Arizona responded with a series of hand signals before looking up towards South and waving, a broad smile growing across her face.

"She's happy to see you too." Argonaut said after she resurfaced. "And she said not to worry about what happened at Pearl. You wouldn't have been able to do anything about the attack."

"How long as she been down there?" South asked as she choked back tears. "And why am I only finding out about this now?"

"We don't know how long she's been here, but it's been at least as long as this war. We've tried taking humans here, but it's like back when we were in our old bodies. No one other than the other Fleet Girls can see her." Argonaut replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I wasn't even sure you'd be able to see her. My sisters have also been delaying this because we need your help with something involving Arizona."

"Help you with wh-" South began to ask before the realization of what Argonaut was about to ask of her. "You want me to help you raise Arizona."

Argonaut simply stared back at the launch docks, where the little ceremony for Barb had taken place. "I know what she means to you South. It's just that if we can bring her back, maybe we can bring back the others. And if they're back, maybe..." Her eyes glistened in the mid-day sun.

Sailing over to the submarine, South wrapped her arms around her. "I will think about it child." She said, before guiding the sobbing submarine back to their base.

-

Even with the destruction of the abyssal fleet that had laid waste to New York City, the day barely felt like a victory to USS Saratoga as she sailed into its damaged harbor. All around her, the harbor bustled with repair work as its defenders fixed what they could. In the center of the harbor, stood the greatest reminder of her failure. Intrepid's overturned hull stuck out of the harbors surface, its red anti-fouling plate a stark reminder of what they lost.

"Oh bloody hell." HMS Duke of York muttered under her breath. The battleships crimson overcoat bore several new holes from her fight with an abyssal battleship during the battle. "Sorry about what happened Sara, I know what the Essex class meant to you."

"Thank you York." Sara replied. "And thank you for helping with the battle."

"Think nothing of it." York replied throwing her arm around the carrier's shoulders. "They shot up our destroyers too. Vicki feels as bad as you do Sara. She tried intercepting the raid, but you know a squadron of Spits can only do so much against three carriers worth of aircraft."

"It's still appreciated York." Sara said with a faint smile. "If you and the others need supplies or repairs, feel free to stay as long as you need."

"Appreciate the offer Sara." York said, sailing away to corral her destroyers. After gaining a few feet of separation she turned back towards the carrier. "If you need someone to talk too, my mother Dreadnought might be able to help."

Sara nodded, before sailing towards Intrepid's overturned hull. Despite her calm demeanor, Sara had to fight back tears as she gazed upon the body of her dead 'daughter.' The Essexs', along with their Independence class cousins, had treated her as their surrogate mother along with Enterprise. She had been grateful for the opportunity to mentor them like she and her sister had the Yorktowns years before, and had looked forward to doing so again.

She knew better than to blame herself, there was only so much she could do racing up and down the coast putting out fires. But she still wished she had been there. Maybe with her fighters in the air she would have been able to stop those bombers from...

"Don't blame yourself mom." A voice said behind her, as someone put their hand on her shoulder. "There was nothing you could have done."

"I appreciate the sentiment, whoever you are." She replied, thinking the figure was one of the cruisers or destroyers racing around the harbor as part of the cleanup effort. "But I assure you I'm quite..." She stopped as she looked at the hand resting on her, blackish red blood still glistening as it stuck to the figures skin.

Turning around, Saratoga saw what could only be described as a ghost. A girl with long brown hair slightly taller than herself dressed in a tattered set of aviation khaki's, her other arm enclosed around a gash on her abdomen. The girl tried to take another step towards her, only to collapse in the carriers arms.

"Mom..." The figure said, trailing off as she hugged Sara even tighter.

"I'm here Intrepid." Sara replied in a sweet comforting voice, knowing exactly who the girl was. "It's good to have you back." "It's good to be back mom." Intrepid replied. "It's good to be back..."

-

"I'm sorry to hear about New York." South Carolina heard Dreadnought say over the telephone. Send my condolences to Saratoga, Vicky and York told me how much the Essexs meant to her."

"I am sure she will appreciate that." South responded, having been blindsided by news of the attack hours before. "Hopefully Intrepid will be back soon though."

"Along with all her sisters so I won't have to spend the rest of this war relying on the wills of politicians to win it. "

"I take it your trans-Europe task force still has not gotten off the ground." South asked, earning a grumbled curse from Dreadnought.

"Bloody idiots are more worried about the enemy 20 years down the line than they are the demons threatening us right now." Dreadnought responded. "Every I think I'm getting close, some bastard gets cold feet over the possibility of Jerry shooting us, or us shooting the French, or the French shooting everyone. The only way things could get worse was if Hood herself came back."

"I am sure one day they will realize we can all be put in the same room without blowing it up." South joked. "I still fear the day we have to work out a deal between our forces and those of Japan. "

"Hopefully then I'll have everything figured out over here and..." Dreadnought suddenly trailed off as if trying to hold another conversation. At the same time South heard a knock on the door, opening it to find Sully with a new report in hand.

"Intrepid's back." The destroyer said quickly before running down the hall to the admirals office.

"Dreadnought." South said picking the phone back up. "I am afraid I will have to call you back. There has been a new development in New York."

"I was about to tell you the same thing." Dreadnought replied. "Only this one involves me and my big fat mouth. You'll never guess who just popped into Scapa Flow. 


	21. Chapter 21

May 24th, 1941. 5:51 AM.

Denmark Straight, North Atlantic.

There's an old saying. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. While this phrase normally was used to describe the coming of a storm, HMS Prince of Wales couldn't help but wonder if the blood-red clouds she had seen at first sunrise were an omen of ill fortune as she steamed towards her looming conflict with the German battleship Bismarck.

When she had set sail the day before, the mission's success had seemed as close to a sure thing as there could have been. Even with how new she was, having been pulled from her post-shakedown refit for this mission, Wales was still one of the most advanced battleships in the North Atlantic. With an armored belt that was almost fifteen inches thick and six inches of deck armor, she was arguably the most well protected ship in the world. Her ten 14 inch cannons, while smaller than Bismark's 15's,were more numerous, faster firing, and tied to a state of the art fire control system.

And she wasn't alone either. Sailing with her was the pride of the Royal navy, a ship whose name was synonymous with its raw power. HMS Hood, the first and only member of her class and the last of the British Battlecruisers. While a bit long in the tooth and in need of a refit like Wales, she still had a belt as stout as any battleships' and eight 16-inch cannons. Even with only the two of them, they would have had the damn Krauts outgunned. Add in the six destroyers they had departed with and Sheffield and Norfolk, who were tailing the two German ships, and one could have considered the outcome already decided.

And had everything gone ahead as planned, that would have been the case. With Holland's force pressing Bismark from the West and two cruisers engaging Eugen from the north, the two ships would have been caught in a vice. Outnumbered five to one and engaged from multiple angles, neither Kraut would have a chance. They had even taken account for Hoods weaker deck armor, taking a route to the German ships that would have limited her exposure time to plunging fire from their guns.

But that had relied entirely on Sheffield keeping them under constant surveillance, and at thirty minutes past midnight they had received the fateful message that she had lost contact with The German vessels. Wales couldn't blame the girl, straddling the fine line between the edge of her radar range and the maximum firing range for Bismarck's cannons. At the same time though, she couldn't help but curse their luck. They were forced to detach their destroyers to search for her, and by the time Sheffield had found the Germans again they were too far away to regroup before the battle.

Even worse the new German position and course put them perilously out of position. Now, instead of a head on pass that played to their strengths, Hood and Wales were coming almost due south of the German formation. They would be outgunned by the Krauts initially and would be spending far more time exposed to their deadly plunging fire.

"At least Norfolk and Sheffield are still in position." Wales had said. "Two on one odds aren't that bad."

"… Certainly so." At the time Wales couldn't help but notice Hoods reply was distant, like she was holding something back from the battleship, even if she couldn't quite figure out what it had been.

It wasn't until her lookouts spotted the smoke from Bismarck's funnel that she figured out what it was. Try as she might, she couldn't locate the two cruisers that had been trailing her. "Hood..." She began to say, holding onto the foolish hope that the Germans smoke was masking their presence. "The cruisers, they're..."

"Not here." Came the battlecruiser's calm reply, confirming her worst fears. " Don't worry Princess, we still hold the advantage over them. You're every bit as advanced as Bismarck is. And her escort is only a heavy cruiser, nothing that can compare to a mighty battlecruiser like myself."

"You think so Hood?" Wales asked, nervously smoothing out the knee length skirt of her royal blue dress.

"I do Princess." Hood replied with such confidence, Prince of Wales could almost imagine her smiling from her spot on her bridge. "By the time those two cruisers get here, the only job we'll need them for is picking up survivors."

Even with her flagships confidence washing over her, Wales still couldn't shake the uneasiness over the upcoming battle. She was too new for this mission, with workers still aboard fixing issues from her shakedown cruise and a crew too inexperienced for a one on one fight. With every mile, the doubts began to grow. Would she be able to do her duty? Would her systems hold up to their initiation? Would her crew?

"30,000 yards." Hood called out, shaking Wales from her trance. "Prepare to fire on the lead ship of the formation."

Looking through her rangefinders, Wales could make out the distinct lines of the battleship Bismarck. The only problem was that she wasn't the ship Hood and Wales were targeting. Instead of leading the formation. The German battleship trailed her escorting cruiser as the made a break for their hunting ground in the North Atlantic. "Hood... I think that-"

"Fire." The rest of Wales's response was drowned out as the two capital ships forward batteries issued their initial challenges. Almost immediately her crew in the fire control room began shifting their focus to Bismarck as her gun crews worked feverishly to get the next salvo in place.

It was at that moment Wales worst fears were realized. "A turret reporting an issue with one of the cannons, captain." One of her officers reported. A ball of lead formed in her stomach as the words hit her ears.

"Hood." Wales began. "Something's wrong with one of my guns."

"Just keep firing with what you have left." The battlecruiser responded. "We'll be in position to unleash our full broadsides soon enough."

Despite her own doubts and misgivings, Wales remained silent as her remaining guns continued to pound at her German counterpart, each salvo landing closer and closer to their target. Mysteriously, the Germans had yet to return fire despite the flurry of shells landing around them.

"Alright Kraut." She said to herself as her forth salvo flew over Bismarck's bridge. "What in god's name are you up too?"

-

"What in god's name are you waiting for!" A blond-haired woman shouted at Admiral Gunther Lutjen before involuntarily as a series of shell sailed perilously close to her bridge. The damn British had been firing on her for almost 3 minutes now, and still the damn fool commanding her thought he could outrun the force sent to hunt her and Prinz Eugen down.

"Permission to fire." Her first gunnery officer asked, as if reading her thoughts. Bismarck attempted to respond only to cry out in pain, crumpling to her knees as a fourteen inch shell slammed into her hull below the water line. For her second her vision blurred, her gut burning as if someone had put a blowtorch to the wound. Pressing one of her hands against the wound she staggered back upright, stunned to see Captain Lindermann staring in her direction.

Her captains face showed no emotion as he turned from her to Admiral Lutjen except for his eyes, whose stare dared his superior to counteract what he was about to say. "I'm not letting my ship get shot out from under my arse." He commanded, his voice far calmer than his gaze suggested to the wounded battleship. "Open Fire."

A smile broke across Bismarck's face as her main battery gave its reply to the numerous challenges that had been thrown at her, her faithful companion following up with her own salvo moments later. All around the lead British ship, who Bismarck identified as none other than the world-famous HMS Hood, the sea turn white from shell falls. A large column of smoke rose from behind her foes superstructure as one of their shells drew blood, causing her smile to grow even more.

For too long the British had laughed as her compatriots had scattered before their mighty battleships. After today, that would no longer be the case. They would learn to fear her cannons after today, understanding just how lucky they'd been that no German battleship had dared fight them before.

-

"Hood." Wales screamed as she heard the aging battlecruiser cry out in pain, smoke billowing from her aft superstructure. "Hood, are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine." Hood replied, the pain in her voice betraying the lie. "All they got was the shelter deck. I'll be right as rain soon enough."

Despite Hood's calm response Wales could tell she was in trouble. Smoke enveloped her from mainmast to her second funnel. Every so often Wales could see a large cloud of smoke push out from her wounded friend as ammunition cooked off from the heat. Every word from Hood seemed labored as she said them.

Wales fired off another salvo as they closed to 14,000 yards, though she couldn't tell if it she had scored another hit. She this wasn't going to be enough though. Even with all her guns working she and Hood could only bring ten guns to bear against the combined main and secondary batteries of both German ships. "They're going to tear us apart at this rate." She shouted to Hood.

"I concur." Hood replied. "20 degree turn to starboard on my mark."

"Copy."

"Three…two…one… mark." Wales felt her hull groan as she and Hood pulled to starboard, their coarse now running parallel to the German battlegroup. "All batteries open fi-"

Wales watched as a shell slammed into Hood near her aft mainmast. Seconds later a column of fire spewed from the damaged area, towering high over her masts.

"Hood!" Wales cried out as her mentor grown from the blow. "Talk to me. How bad is it?"

"Wales, I… oh god…"

A fireball washed over Wales as Hood's midsection came apart as if they were made of matchsticks, pieces of the old battle cruiser raining down of her and her crew. The shattered remnants of her stern twisted away from her bow as her shattered keel broke in two. Its twisted wreckage headed to the bottom of the Atlantic instantaneously. Hood's bow stayed afloat a scant minute longer, pointing to the sky as water flooded its compartments.

As her bow slid into the water for the final time, Hood's "A" turret let out one last act of defiance. No doubt realizing they were dooming themselves doing so, it's crew fired off one last salvo at the enemy, it's shells propelled just as much by the last vestiges of their ship as by the cordite in their propellant bags.

Tears welled up in Wales's eyes as she sailed past the burning oil slick that had been her friend moments before, the battleship wiping her face and forcing herself not to produce anymore. She could cry for as long as she wanted to later, but not before sending Hood's murderers straight to hell…

… Even if she had to escort them there herself.

Wales heard herself roar as her nine remaining guns let loose on the enemy, intent of collecting payment on every last drop of blood that had been spilled. She watch with a smile as a shell smashed into Bismarck's bow, leaving a trail of oil and forcing the bitch to slow down a couple of knots.

The Germans were quick with their response a pair of shells slamming into Wales superstructure, killing scores of crewmen. Wales felt a splitting headache envelope her as the shells carved through her compartments, her hair turning a light brown from blood red while her thoughts grew muddy. Soon after, another shell tore through her armor belt, coming to rest in her in her torpedo bulkhead without exploding, a third smashing into the powder room below of her 5.25-inch gun positions. Still she kept firing, determined to take at least one of her adversaries down with her. She would avenge Hood, no matter what it cost her to do so.

"90 degree turn to port on my mark." Wales heard her captain order. "Prepare to disengage."

The word hit her with more force than the shells. Not only had she failed to sink the Bismarck, to avenge Hood, but now she was fleeing the Germans like a scared puppy with its tail between its legs. "Sir…" An officer asked in similar disbelief.

"We have already lost one ship today," Her captain said. "And I don't intend to make mine the second today to have her name struck from the registry. Now prepare to disengage."

Wales fought her helmsman as she was steered away from Bismarck's guns, her rear cannons continuing to fire on the enemy until another malfunction rendered the entire turret inoperable. She knew she couldn't return to Scapa Flow, not after what happened today. The rest of the girls would resent her for letting Hood die, and she knew deep down they'd have every right to do so.

She looked back at Bismarck's shrinking form as the German battleship sailed over the horizon, both wondering why she had hunted her down and finished her off, and welcoming her to do so…

-

Bismarck was euphoric as she watched the King George class battleship slink below the horizon, her tail between her legs. Even Lutjen's cowardly decision not to hunt the battleship down had done little to sullen her mood. She'd beaten two of the most powerful ships the Royal Navy had in combat today, and sent HMS Hood, the Pride of the Royal Navy, to the bottom of the ocean in only with only flesh wounds to show for the British efforts to sink her.

Resting against the table examined the blood gash that stretched across her arm. Blood still oozed from it, running down her hand before dropping to the ground below in an ever-expanding puddle. More blood poured down her left leg from the wound on her abdomen, leaving a trail of bloody footprints where ever she went.

"How bad is it." She asked Prinz Eugen, who had fallen behind her to gauge how bad the fuel spill was.

"Very bad big sister." The cruisers responded in a concerned voice. "I don't think you'll be able to complete the mission."

"Don't worry Eugen." Bismarck grinned. "We have already secured a stunning victory today. Continue with the mission Prinz Eugen, I'll see you again at after this is all over."

"They'll hunt you down Bismarck." Prinz Eugen replied, the worry in her voice evident. "They won't let either of us rest after what we've done."

"Fear not Eugen," Bismarck replied. Even with the damage I've sustained, it'll take nothing less than the entire Royal Navy to hunt me down."

-

April 28th, 2021.

Scapa Flow, United Kingdom.

HMS Prince of Wales sat at her desk, reading over the last of the after-action reports from the previous day's encounter between an Abyssal patrol and a task force lead by her sister. With her black stockings, dress, and petty coat, one would have surmised she had just comeback from a funeral. A black sunhat sat next to her on the desk , completing the look.

In truth, that description was more than accurate than anyone at Scapa flow dared to admit. The battleship rarely smiled since her return during the opening months, her personality almost a complete opposite of her more outgoing sisters.

"Catching up on my adventures, are we?" A voice said, causing her to look up from her work. Standing at the doorway of her office was her sister King George V, or KG as she insisted the others call her.

KG couldn't have been any more different than Wales if she tried. Always seen in her royal green dress and coat, her long brown hair done up in complicated buns, she radiated a confidence many found infectious. Her emerald green eyes seemed filled with endless optimism, regardless of how bad the situation might be.

"You know full well we need to get these filed in with mother." Wales replied. "Someone needs to take care of that while you and the others are off galavanting around the North Atlantic."

Wales watched as her sister took a seat across from her, the corners of her smile falling ever so slightly. "You know those things don't paint the complete picture right. Nelson, Renown, and myself could have used you out there."

"No, you didn't." Wales shot back. "You know full well what would have happened had I gone out with you." Looking back at the reports in front of her. "I'd only end up getting one of you killed."

KG sighed. Her sister hadn't fired her guns in anger since coming back, preferring to stay desk bound at Scapa Flow. "Wales, we need you out there. You can't keep blaming yourself for Hood and Repulse."

"The hell I can't KG. It's my fault they died." A small puddle of tears appeared on the report in front of her. "Lord knows I should have died in her place."

"You don't mean that Wales." KG pleaded, taking her sisters hand. "You did they best you could. No one expected you to win that fight by yourself."

"Do you think Hood would want you killing yourself over her fate?" She added, watching Wales head sink even farther into her work. "Do you think any of us like seeing you beat yourself up like this?"

Wales looked up at her sister. __What did it matter what I think?__ She thought to herself. __Hood counted on me to help her and I failed to do so.__

Her response was cut off by the beeping off her headset. "Wales here." She said, tapping the earpiece. "Slow down Exeter. I'll be right there."

"What is it?" KG asked getting out of her chair

"Exeter found something at the docks. Wants me to head down there to help her." Wales replied. "She sounds a little shaken."

"Little miss textbook." KG said incredulously as the two made their way out of Wales's office. "Must be something big then, because she never panics."

"Think it's the Germans again." Wales asked. "I know Bismarck was guarding the oilfields this week."

"Unlikely. We would have heard something if that was the case."

As the two reached the pier, HMS Exeter ran up to them. "Sorry about calling out this late ma'am." The auburn-haired girl said. "I spotted her out near the pier as I was making my rounds. The destroyers are helping her get on dry land right now."

"Helping who." A confused Wales asked.

"You'll see in a second ma'am."

As the two battleships made their way into where a gaggle of destroyers was helping a lone figure out of the water. The destroyers scattered as they approached leaving the figure alone. She was tall and lean, a sure sign she was a battlecruiser. Her long blond hair was done up in an exquisite bun like KG's except for one strand that spiraled down the side of her head. Though her face was marred with dried blood and her blue overcoat seared and torn, she still radiated the confidence befitting a queen of the sea.

"Princess… Georgette." The figure said, her voice one not heard for almost a full century. "It's good to see you again."

"Hood." KG said with a smile. Wales simply nodded before taking a step back away from her old friend. "It's good to see you as well."

"It's good to be back." Hood replied before losing the smile. "So, what's the situation Georgette. I assume something must be going on, considering the afterlife I had."


	22. Chapter 22

"Thank you dear." Hood said to Exeter as the heavy cruiser handed her a cup of tea. King George, Prince of Wales, and herself had relocated to the briefing room after Hood's surprise arrival at base, and if Hood hadn't already had any suspicions of something being off, the look of the naval base would have set off alarm bells. "So tell me Georgette, how is the war in Europe going?"

"Depends on which war you're talking about Hood." King George replied. "The one you fought ended almost 80 years ago"

To her credit Hood managed to keep the calm composure befitting a flagship with her years of service, the slightest tremble of her hand as she set her tea cup down being the only sign of her surprise."I'm afraid I'm not quite following you Georgette."

"Maybe I can help explain it better." A voice at the front of the room said. Turning around Hood's eyes went wide with shock as the screen at the front of the room, which she had assumed was simply meant for a laminated slide projector, came to life. On it was an image of woman wearing an admiral's uniform with a smile Hood could only describe as motherly, her brown hair streaked with grey and blue eyes dull by age. Hood felt she should have known who was on the screen, but couldn't quite figure out who she was or where they might have met.

"I'm sorry," Hood said as a confused look spread across her face. "I'm afraid I have to ask who you are?"

"Hood," Wales shouted in outrage. "How could you not remember our-"

"Now Wales," The lady said, cutting the younger battleship off. "While Hood might have had more in common with your older cousins than her own class, she is still one of Invincible's children." Her gaze shifted back to Hood. "You wouldn't have recognized me anyways child. After all you were still on your shakedown cruise when I was sent to the breakers."

Hood's eyes went wide as she remember her first month in service back in 1920, helping the other ships get over the losses incurred by the Washington Naval Treaty despite learning the fates of her own stillborn sisters. "Dreadnought."

"Yes child, and may I say it's good to finally meet you, even if it isn't in the flesh." Dreadnought replied. "I heard a lot about you from my daughters and the Renowns. As for the war in Europe, it indeed has over for since Berlin fell to the Russians in 1945. The enemy we face now is far different, a breed of monsters that make even the likes of Hitler and Stalin look like saints." In a flash, the image on the screen transitioned from Dreadnought to a weirdly shaped battleship that was black at the midnight sky.

"We call them Abyssals." Dreadnought said. "Monsters from the deep that have been terrorizing the world's oceans for over a year now. The human navies have been able to do little to stop these monstrosities and without the arrival of Fleet Girls like ourselves, Britain, Japan and other places would have starved long ago."

"Hood," the old dreadnought continued. "I know your last few years in the Royal Navy were… problematic to say the least, but Britain and the world need every ship they can get."

"I understand Dreadnought." Hood said with a smile. "For King and Country."

"It's Queen and Country now." Dreadnought corrected. "Fredrick's little girl Elizabeth. She's become our longest reigning monarch, and has been very involved with Fleet Girls adapting to their newfound life. But I digress, it is good to hear you will be with us. For the time being your station will be here at Scapa Flow, with King George and Prince of Wales acting as your instructors. Once they clear you for frontline duty, a permeant station will be assigned. Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have some… political matters to attend too."

"More like fires to put out." Wales remarked after the screen went black, arousing an inquisitive look from Hood. "Mother has this ridiculous notion that the various European Navies can work together. It never had a serious chance of getting off the ground, and with you back it's almost certainly dead." Wales snorted in disgust. "If you ask me, the sooner she gives up on that idea the better. Like I'd ever let that bitch or her friends into Scapa Flow willingly."

"She means Bismarck." Georgette replied before Hood could ask who Wales was talking about. "She, her sister Tirpitz, along with a handful of other Kaiserliche Marine and Kriegsmarine girls have come back. But because of political issues, they're limited to operating in the North Sea and defending the Murmansk supply line. Neither our government nor the French will allow them to use the North Atlantic ports or cross through the channel. With Iceland and Greenland currently in enemy hands, they're bottled up. The French aren't much better, with only a handful of inter-war period girls available. To make manners worse, most of them don't want anything to do with us despite Richelieu's best efforts, preferring to stay in the Mediterranean."

"With damn good reason." Hood muttered. "So, the French don't trust us and nobody trusts the Germans. How's the situation here?"

"In terms of Fleet Girls, we're arguably the best off," Georgette replied. "With 12 large gun capital ships including you now, seven carriers, and more cruisers and destroyers than we can count. The problem is that we're once again too spread out to go on the offensive. Between protecting Britain, Gibraltar, The South Atlantic sea lanes, and Canada, along with supporting the United State Navy and protecting convoys…"

"Doesn't the United States-"

"Have a thousand ships on call?" Wales asked, cutting off Hood. "They did, it just seems that someone forgot to inform then about what's going on and they're taking their time coming back. They just got their fifth battleship back a month ago, and who knows when another carrier will come back. As it is, we had to send Duke of York and Victorious over to Canada to help them out."

"Which is why we need to work out an alliance." Georgette replied. "With the German and French Fleet Girls supplementing our forces, we might finally be able to go on the offensive."

Wales rubbed her forehead before giving Hood a look that said 'here we go again.' "KG, even if… and make no mistake it's a bloody big if, the politicians don't kill this plan because of Hood's return, you will still have to sell the plan to the rest of the fleet. The only reason any of the battleships or carriers support this is because of Dreadnought and Hermes' involvement, and even then it was far from unanimous."

"As you have made clear numerous times before…" KG grumbled. "But I have faith that their sense of duty and country will overcome personal grudges when the time comes."

"Maybe for the battleships and carriers that will work," Wales responded. "But you'll be hard pressed convincing the cruisers and destroyers of that."

"The ones who found me last night did seem to be a little too enthusiastic with their search lights."

"Cossack, Glowworm, and Electra?" KG asked Hood. "They're not the ones Wales is talking about. The problem is all the girls who were either former Free Nation ships or are volunteers from Norway, Denmark, or Poland. A lot of them still remember their old crew's feelings towards Germany, and aren't exactly ready to fight side by side with them yet."

"So what do we have to do to change that?" Both battleships turned to Hood, their argument lost amid their reactions to her remark. Wales posture stiffened as she gritted her teeth, her face a mask of barely contained outrage. Without a word she stormed out of the room, slamming the door as she went. Her sister, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile at what she had just heard.

"You really mean that Hood?" She said, her voice full of hope.

Hood simply nodded. "As you said, we have more important things to worry about than petty personal grudges. So, what's the first step?"

"Getting you operational." KG replied. "We're going to need you back as the pride of the Royal Navy if we're going to have any chance of the others backing my mom's plan."

"And how long do you expect that to take?" Hood asked. "By the sounds of it we don't have a lot of time to pull this off."

Hoods question was met by a coy smile from KG. "More than enough time to get you up and running my old friend. It's not like you're a carrier."

"Six to eight weeks." South Carolina growled.

Her introductory meeting with the newly arrived Intrepid had gone off extremely well, the girl all but jumping at the chance to serve with the fleet again. When it had come time to discuss the matter of training with her mom and aunt, as Intrepid had called Sara and Lexington, the discussion had gone rather differently.

"Yes South." Came Saratoga's calm measured voice. "It's going to take at least that long to get Intrepid combat worthy."

"You should consider it a good thing we've managed to cut the training time down that much without any major loss in quality." Her sister Lexington added. "It took us 4 months working on the fly to figure how to properly conduct ops with these bodies, and it took the navy playing around with our old hulls 20 years to get things right."

"This isn't as simple as what you battleships do." Sara remarked. "We have to teach her pilots basic takeoff and landing skills, basic tactics for each of the three aircraft groups, advanced combined squadron tactics, shooting skills for her anti-aircraft gun crews…"

"Proper storage of munitions __and__ avgas." Lexington further stresses. "So yeah, it takes a little longer than the two weeks you spend with battleships. Of course, if you want her out in the Pacific barely able to launch her aircraft, much less use them with any amount of skill, then by all means we can get her to you in two weeks."

"You've made your point Lexington." South replied, still fuming. "I'll see what I can do on my end, but I expect to hold you two to that timeline. I don't need you to remind how much a carrier is needed at Pearl."

As South finished the conversation and turned off the screen in the briefing room, Argonaut's words spun in her head. She hated the idea of recruiting… no, drafting was a far better word. Forcing her to fight in a war she had no part in after everything she had already sacrificed in her last life.

But at the same time she knew how badly Arizona was needed. Even as an early member of the Standards, she was leagues above South Carolina in every statistic that counted for a battleship. So while every fiber of being as a mother told her to let her daughter stay where she lie, as an officer she knew she had to at least try to bring her back.

It hadn't taken long for Fuso to realize she had been lied to. She remembered her old life and how it had ended.

All the jokes and complaints make about her classes design flaws, even by the men who had lived and fought on her, and her own half-sisters. Even when she had been a first-rate assignment she could hear her boys who should have been grateful to be serving on her sneer at their assignments.

The endless time in drydock, with near constant remodels and refits as her designers and builders tried to make something of her and her sister. Not anything to truly make them better like with the other battleships, but operations to simply fix what was wrong with them.

And then there was the war, where she and her sister spent years doing menial tasks simply to keep them out of the way. At first they had tried to convince themselves that what they were doing was important. But after being sent to that frigid wasteland while the carriers were slaughtered at Midway, and being relegated to training ships even after the loss of three battleships and the conversion of their half-sisters, the two could not hide from the realization any longer. Their commanders had deemed them useless, fit only for teaching new recruits the difference between port and starboard.

Even when called out of retirement for the operation Sho-go, they were used for little more than bait. Thrown right at the teeth of the American battleline, only her sister had been given a righteous death by them, shown just how outmatched they were against their American counterparts as they drown her in shells. Fuso hadn't even made it that far, felled by destroyers, mere children who struck her down without a thought in a near perfect display of tactics her own side had created to deal with the Americans fleet.

Which is why the Princesses words had quickly rang hollow. They had never been needed before, so why would their country have needed them now? They'd confronted her about it, and to their surprise the Princess had come clean about her motives. She expected the attack on Pearl Harbor to simply be the first of many operations against humanity on both sides of the Pacific.

If the princess had feared that the knowledge that she planned to use the two sisters against their homeland would cause them to turn on her, she couldn't have been further from the truth. They had wallowed in their despair for so long that the loss of that last bit of hope no longer bothered them.

And soon enough, the rest of the world would share in their despair and hopelessness… Starting with that god-forsaken base they would help burn to the ground.


	23. Chapter 23

_What do you think they're serving for breakfast?_ USS Mingo asked her step sister as the two lazily meandered back to Pearl. They were back under Pearl's air umbrella and still had their steel hull escorts. And even if something was stupid enough to come after them, her step sisters radar would pick the threat up with plenty of time for them to dive below and set up an ambush of their own.

The two were in a jovial mood as they swam back along the pristine blue ocean surface, with even the news of what had happened to Barb barely phasing them. They were long accustomed to the unique dangers of going out on patrol, and knew that things could have gone a lot worse. As far as they were concerned, the fact that she would be back at Pearl waiting for them, even if she was a bit banged up from her ordeal, was all they needed to hear.

 _ _I'm thinking ice cream.__ The Gato class sub responded _ _. I've been craving that since we first got on station.__

Mingo raised an eyebrow. __It's ten in the morning. I don't even think the machines are up and running yet.__

Bowfin let out a giggle, drawing an even more confused look from her older sibling. __They don't need to make the ice cream on sight.__ She mimed. __It comes in on the supply runs. Come on, we've earned a little reward after that patrol.__

 _ _And If the kitchen staff doesn't want to reward us?__

Bowfin snorted. __Four cooks and 20 year old padlock are the only things stopping us, and the only reason we have to deal with them is because those 5 gallon tubs are a pain in the ass to squeeze through the ventilation shafts.__

She began fiddling with her hands as she formulated her plan. __If we pull the fire alarms, that'll buy us a 45 second window where we'll have the kitchen to ourselves. The lock should take around 10 seconds give or take, maybe less if Barb's up and walking.__ Mingo nodded in agreement, remembering her stepsister's almost magical ability with locks. __We can easily swipe two bins each.__

Before Mingo could reply she saw Bowfin go ramrod straight, her eyes widening in surprise and fear. __Radar contacts?__ She asked.

 _ _Three.__ Bowfin replied. __Close V formation, looks to be destroyers. They're only going ten knots though.__

Mingo let a small gulp as she ran through the possibilities. There was no way Enfield would have sent half of his precious destroyers just to escort them back, and they wouldn't have been dallying around at half their cruise speed. At the same time, there was no way Pearl wouldn't have let them know about a group of Abyssal destroyers that had cut them off… right. "Bowfin's reporting three radar contacts in front of us." She reported to her hidden escorts. "Anyone have eyes on them?"

She heard a few chuckles over the radio. "That's just your relief coming to welcome you back to Pearl."

Mingo breathed a sigh of relief. __Friendlies,__ she told her step sister. __Looks like our cousins want to check in on us.__

The three V-boats met up with them a short time later, Argonaut practically crushing Mingo and Bowfin with a pair of hugs. __How'd you guys do?__ Nautilus asked.

 _ _Seven kills between us, nine if you count the two Barb hit before she got depth charged. How's she holding up?__

Narwhal shrugged her shoulders. __So-so. She's walking in a straight line now, but she's still suffering tremors while her crew get her wiring sorted out. Poor things going stir crazy waiting to be cleared.__

 _ _God help the abyssals when she finally is.__ Her sister added. __We do have a problem though. Someone…__ She added, pointing at Argonaut. __Decided to go tell South Carolina about Arizona.__

 _ _Which no doubt made her cross.__ Bowfin finished before turning to Argonaut. __I thought I told you we were going to wait to wait until when we were all together before trying to raise her.__

 _ _We don't have time to wait for that. North Carolina got put out of action for a month after one fight, and while she's at the docks Barb almost got killed. You know we need hulls more than ever-__

 _ _Ladies.__ Nautilus cut the two submarines off. __What done is done, and we'll sort this out with South when she's ready.__ The old V-boat turned back to Bowfin _ _. What's the AO look like?__

 _ _Target rich environment.__ Bowfin replied. __The destroyers are getting more aggressive though. You three might want to stay together while hunting given your…limitations.__

Nautilus rolled her eyes at the shit eating grin spreading across the younger subs face. __Yes, let's make fun of the old subs. We're old, not weak. Now you two run along back to base, enjoy your well-earned time off.__

 _ _Will do.__ Mingo replied as the two groups continued on their way. __You try to stay safe out there.__

Nautilus smiled. __We'll try to save a few for you.__

-

"Gentlemen," Admiral Enfield greeted the commanding officers of the USS Columbia and Sante Fe. "How are you too this afternoon?"

"Been better sir." Bart Mancuso, the commanding officer of the Columbia replied. "We're still trying to sort out the torpedo issues, and I think even Barb's running out of ideas. Poor girls thrown every ounce of effort into making herself useful since she got cleared to walk around, but I don't think there's anything we can do about them here."

"Speaking of Barb, I've finally finished reading the After-Action Reports from your last patrol with her." A smile spreads across Enfield face as delivers the good news. "And I'm proud to inform you two that you've both have been awarded the Bronze Star for your actions on April 28th, 2021. In addition, both your crews are up for Navy Unit Citations for their roles in the rescue of Lieutenant Senior Grade USS Barb."

The two sub captains look at each other. "Sir," Mancuso replied, slightly confused. "If this is some political dog and pony show…"

"It's not." Enfield replied, cutting the man off. "Barb wrote up the recommendation herself as soon as her tremors became manageable, and I imagine Mingo and Bowfin will back her up when they get back. "

"We were just doing our job sir." Sante Fe's CO, Ronald Jones, responded. "We couldn't let one of our little sisters get hung out to dry."

Enfield chuckled, drawing further confused looks from the two sub commanders in front of him. "And that's why she wrote the recommendation. You have to understand something. These girls, back when they were steel hulls, were regarded as the navy's bastard step-children. The fact that anyone would stick their neck out for them is something they don't take lightly. Hell, the only reason Barb didn't give you the awards off her own Class A's is because she only earned one Presidential Unit Citation."

"Trust me gentlemen," he added. "I wouldn't have agreed to this if I didn't think you two deserved it anyway. The fact remains you both purposely painted a target on your boats, knowing full well that you had a minimal chance of winning a fight against that destroyer, in order to save a member of my command. If that isn't worth a commendation in this war I don't know what is."

Just then, the three men heard a faint knock on the door.

"Enter." Enfield commanded, having a fairly certain idea who it was on the other side. The door drifted open with only the faintest squeak of the hinges. Mingo and Bowfin were quick to follow, their hair and wetsuits caked in salt from the two weeks spent at sea.

The two barely made it through the door before freezing at the sight of the three senior officers in the room.

"Sir." Bowfin said as the two saluted the men. "Are we interrupting something important? Because if so we can always come back later."

"No, It's alright." Enfield replies. "I was just informing Commanders Mancuso and Jones of the awards they'd be receiving for rescuing your sister."

"Thank you." The two subs said in near unison as their gazer turned to the two men seated opposite of the admiral.

"Our sis tends to get herself into a lot of sticky situations." Mingo added, a thin smile spreading across her face. "It… it means a lot, you putting your sterns on the line like that to pull her out of that one."

"Think nothing of it." Jones replied, a smile on his face. "Lord knows you girls have done everything you can help us. Only right for us to do the same."

For a second, Admiral Enfield saw a blush spread across the two submarines faces, Mingo rubbing her shoulder as her gaze went to the floor.

"Ladies." Enfield said, a slight smirk on his face. "I believe you had a reason for coming to my office."

Bowfin was the first one to snap out of her trance, the sub elbowing her half sister in the ribs to get her focused again. "We just wanted to report the success of our patrol. Between the two of us we were able to sink two light cruiser and five destroyers."

"Seven ships in two weeks…" Mancuso replied as Jones lets out a low whistle. "Nine if we include the two Barb ambushed. We keep this up and get a little more support from the mainland, we might actually have a chance to push back."

"Ideally that would be the plan." Enfield agreed. "But the airforce is cutting back on the bombing runs because of a snag in the production lines. Once the princess gets her runways back, her planes are going push our operational area back towards Pearl."

"There's something else sir." Mingo added as she stepped forward. "We didn't see anything larger than those light cruisers out there, even when we got close to the island."

"You think she's planning something?"

"I don't know sir." Mingo replied. "It's just… somethings off about this. This princess, she's doesn't flood us with endless targets like the ones the Australians are dealing with. She tends to try hitting our weak points. With what she's using now, she'd have a hard time even hurting the convoys, much less challenging us. All I know is that we're not seeing the full picture, and that scares me even more than whatever she's planning."

-

"You wished to see me sister?"

The distain in Guadalcanal's voice was music to her sisters ears. Midway knew how much she hated leaving her little domain, and the weakening of her powers that came with it. She rarely ventured past Rabaul, let alone this far North.

Which had made it all the better for Midway that Guadalcanal had no choice but to do so in order to see her new minions. Turning around to see her older sibling, her black dress billowing in the wind. "Pleasure to see you sister."

"Skip the pleasantries." Guadalcanal shot back, the irritation in her voice growing. "You demanded I be here to see your little project, and I expect to see something worth the trip here."

"Relax sister," Wake replied to her older siblings remark as she appeared before the two other spirits. "We can assure what we have will be more than worth your time here."

"And why are we here?" Guadalcanal asked, turning back to Midway. "From what I was told this was your pet project."

"Wake's position was far more secure than mine." Midway admitted. "We couldn't have the insects finding out about my new minions and complicating matters any more than they already have."

"And what complications have already arisen?"

Midway nervously scuffed her foot in the sand. "… The insects and their pets are far more resilient than I had expected. Rather than hide in the nests, they have pushed back, knocking out my airfields and hunting my servants down. I've lost several destroyers, but I can assure you that your force will have plenty of escorts for the-"

Her words died in her throat as Guadalcanal's hand closed around it. "You assure me…" Her older sibling growled. "You can't even protect your own waters. Is that why you dragged me here, to cover for your failures." Her hand tightened its grip on Midway's throat. "Give me one reason not to wipe you from this earth as payment for this failure, and take your territory for my own."

"How… about… two…"

Without warning Guadalcanal was thrown away from her younger sibling. Skidding across the sands, she came to the stop at the waters edge. Dusting herself off, she looked up to see two of those… spirits standing over her.

They wore identical outfits similar to those of the accursed Japanese spectres, White tank tops with long detached billowing sleeves and short skirts. But that was where the similarity to her enemies ended. Their skin was an ash grey like hers and their outfits bore no color. Eyes with an unnatural yellow hue stared at her.

Without a word one of the spirits, with long black hair, charged her. The spirit went for her throat, only to be backhanded into the ocean. Smirking she turned, only to be slammed into the ground by the other. The spectre got two good punches in before Guadalcanal delivered a devastating headbutt before pushing her off, sending the girl skidding into the water next to her friend… no, __sibling__. Guadalcanal now realized.

Rather than sink to the bottom, the two remained kneeling on its surface. A whirlwind formed around the two, and when it subsided the two figures a cornucopia of turrets surrounded them. Several large ones, their main batteries, sat on their shoulders while their secondaries formed belts of steel around their abdomens and right thighs. The Princess herself had summoned her own familiar, her turrets trained on the two.

"You made a pact with those insects." She shouted at Midway, who was watching from farther inland. "Turned on your own flesh and blood in favor of the very beings killing us."

"No sister." Midway replied. "I found those two adrift, and they are immensely loyal to our cause." As if to make her point, she snapped her fingers. At once both spirits stood down, their guns swiveling away from Guadalcanal. "I intend to use them to burn Pearl down. Now sister, do you still wish to second guess me?"

"No sister." Guadalcanal responded, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "You have proven yourself useful… for now."


	24. Chapter 24

"So Doc," North Carolina asked as Medusa's fairies finished prodding her bulkheads. "Am I good to go back out to Pearl now?"

The repair ship, stethoscope still in her ears, shushed her before going back to her work. Listening as her fairies finished their work, she could barely contain the smile on her face as they climbed out of the battleship. "Everything's checking out on my end North, so I just need to arrange transport and you'll be back at Pearl. It should be more than a couple of days at most."

"Thanks for everything Doc." North said as she pulled down her shirt and jumped off the examining table. "You're a miracle worker."

"Just doing my job commander." Medusa replied as the two walked towards the cafeteria. "Besides, your own crew deserves a bit of the credit. Without them chipping in, you'd still probably be in dry dock right now."

"I'll be sure to give them an extra helping of steak and eggs now that I can actually eat some myself. God, I can't believe how much I've missed real food after three and a half weeks of those god awful shakes."

"Oh come on North, those shakes aren't that bad." Medusa reply was met with a very skeptical eyebrow raise from North Carolina. "…Okay, they are that bad. Not much I can do about it though, unless you wanted the sugar to gum up your engine repairs."

"That has to be torture for the destroyers." North remarked. "I don't think they can go for two hours without that stuff, never mind three weeks."

Medusa just laughed. "They absolutely hate it, but I've found that bribing them with a bag of candy once their repairs are done usually helps them get over it." Suddenly her right hand went to her temple. "Ah crap, speaking of destroyers I have to see Kisaragi off today."

"That IJN destroyer with the purple hair?" North asked, eliciting a look from Medusa. "We talked a little while you were away at Pearl a couple of weeks ago."

"I thought I told her not to go near you if you were awake." Medusa mumbled under breath.

"I don't see what the problem is Medusa." North remarked. "She was really nice to me, hell she was more scared of me at first."

"That's because we've had some issues with other girls before." Medusa said. "Some of the girls who didn't make it through the war or lost family in it haven't been nearly as accepting of our new allies as you are. It's part of the reason why I try my best to keep the two groups separ-omph" Medusa let out a grunt of pain as she was cut off mid-sentence by three flying destroyers tackling her midsection.

The middle one, a girl with short reddish brown hair that barely reached her neck, was dressed in the same white shirt with green accents and green skirt that Kisaragi wore. Flanking her were a pair of destroyers that a quick glance by North confirmed were from the same class as the middle girl. Both wore similar navy blue sailor shirts and skirts. One, with ice blue eyes and light violet hair whose bangs stretched down to her bare midriff, held a frown on her face as she unburied it from Medusa's chest. Her sister, a girl with red eyes and orange hair that flowed down to her legs, simply smiled as she pulled the middle girl away.

"Thank you for helping our sister." The violet haired one said in a surprisingly chipper voice. "We didn't think we'd ever see her again after that torpedo hit."

"Think nothing of it girls." Medusa replied with a smile. "I was just doing my job."

"It still means a lot to us." The other girl said. "Poor Mutsuki here has been worrying herself sick over her little sis ever since we got back to Japan." For her part the redheaded destroyer next to her just gave a little smile. "Anyway, we need to get going. They need us back up at Seattle tonight to escort another convoy."

"Hold on one second." Medusa said before running back to her office. She was back in less than a minute handing the girl a bag of candy. "Make sure this gets to your sister intact Uzuki. This candy is meant only for her."

"Will do ma'am." Uzuki replied before running back to the docks with her sister.

"Really warms your heart." Medusa said after the last destroyer turned the corner. "Almost makes all the shit I see on a weekly basis worth it."

"Yeah," North remarked in agreement. "I wonder how my mom's been doing while I've been gone."

-

"Are you sure about this ma'am?" Bowfin asked South Carolina as she floated over the wreck of USS Arizona. She had gone to the battleship the day after getting back from her patrol, looking to apologize for her cousin's behavior following Barb's run-in with those abyssal destroyers. Instead, she had been taken by surprise when South had dismissed her apology, instead offering to help them raise her daughter.

The old battleship nodded. She was dressed in her old uniform, the ankle length skirt of her grey dress kissing the surface of the water with each wave. "It would be selfish of me to put my daughters before the needs of my country, and while no one would question my daughter reasons for her actions, she needs to understand that she's needed by more than just her old crew."

"Still, I… we appreciate you doing this South." Bowfin replied, glancing down at the girl sitting on Arizona's hull. "I know it can't be easy for you to draft one of your own daughters into this fight."

"It isn't." South replied with a sigh, looking at her daughter. "But she's needed... They all are." Taking a deep breath she turned back towards Bowfin. "Is everything ready?"

"As ready as we can be." The submarine replied. "We're kind of in uncharted waters right now."

"But I thought the Royal Navy-."

"Only began arriving in force after an abyssal made the mistake of turning Victory into matchsticks, and even they seem to be caught off guard as often as we are." Bowfin turned to see South giving her a questioning look. "What, you think the light cruisers are the only ones with an international information network? Intelligence was just as much our forte as it was theirs."

"We should probably get this started before anyone see's you standing out here." She added after a quick look around.

"Alright." South replied before closing her eyes. "My beloved daughter. I know you suffered a great deal in your life. No one has the right to ask back into to service." Tears began to stream down her face as she asked what she had once considered unthinkable. "But I have to. I know how much your crew means to you, and no one, least of all myself, believes you're being selfish or cowardly. But you your country needs you, your navy needs you, and I need you. So please… come back to us."

Opening them back up she looked back down at her daughter's hull. The girl that had been perched on it was still there, tears visible on her face as she looked back at her mother.

"I guess it didn't work." Bowfin said with a slight frown.

"It was worth trying Bowfin." South said with a shrug as she made her way back to shore. We'll just have to wait for her to decide when the time is right for her to come back."

-

 _My beloved daughter. I know you suffered a great deal in your life._

A woman drifted in the abyss, stirred awake by the old dreadnoughts words. Brushing her shoulder length blond hair out of her face, blinking her gold eyes as her world came into focus. Looking down she found herself dressed a familiar white and brown western inspired showgirl dress, the skirt of which did little to hide her short black skirt and black stocking clad legs. Around her waist was a gun belt holding a pair of Colt Single Action Army pistols, an additional pair snuggly sitting under her arms in a pair of shoulder holsters.

 _No one has the right to ask back into to service._

 _Damn right about that._ She thought. She had been betrayed her entire life, a battleship forced to sit on the sidelines whenever conflict had arisen. During the first world war she and her sister had been forced to stay stateside, despite being the best battleship in the world at that point, all because the British wasn't enough fuel oil to go around. Instead she had been on lowly convoy duty while her older, more fragile cousins went to face the High Seas Fleet.

Then after almost a quarter century of peace, it happened again. She still remembered that god awful day like it had just happened. Watching as her sweet younger step sister and longtime friendly rival Arizona was blown apart by a bomb hit before her eyes, burning pieces of the girls hull and superstructure raining down on her. She sailed past the slumped bodies two even younger girls, dear old Cali and little WeeVee, and the overturned hulk that had once been her only true sister Oklahoma, all felled by dozens of torpedoes. She had gotten herself under power despite taking a torpedo hit of her own, and had made for the channel, trying to attract the attention of as many Jap flyers as she could on her way out, desperately trying to save her remaining siblings from even more pain. She collected at least six bomb hits for her efforts and distracted dozens of enemy fliers, preventing them from hurting the others.

And her reward for doing so after a lengthy refit… banishment. Reassignment to the Atlantic fleet to do little more than wait to face a navy that wouldn't show it's face and pound the hillsides of places she couldn't even pronounce. And even when she had finally been allowed back into the Pacific she'd still been treated with kids gloves not even allowed to sail into battle with her other siblings. In the end the only good thing her government had ever done for her had been her final demise a death by shell fire and torpedoes granted to her by her littlest cousins and the carriers…

 _But I have to. I know how much your crew means to you, and no one, least of all myself, believes you're being selfish or cowardly. But you your country needs you, your navy needs you, and I need you. So please… come back to us."_

Nevada's train of thought derailed as she realized who was talking to her, a voice she hadn't heard in over 30 years. A voice that had soothed her when she had needed to vent her frustration about being left out of her first war in 1917. A voice that had greeted her upon her return home after a limited deployment to Europe in 1918… A voice she knew had died in a scrapyard in 1924.

"Mom?" She groggy replied, suddenly aware she wasn't alone either. Two more figures came into focus in front of her, the old standard going for two of her pistols before realizing who they were. One she couldn't have mistaken for anyone in the world. The girls short white hair and scandalize by even Nevada's standards dress had been an oddity even back in 1916.

"Okie?" She asked. The girl nodded, enveloping Oklahoma in a hug. A curt cough by the other girl brought Nevada's focus back on her. She wore a navy blue jacket over a cream colored top that was tucked into a navy pencil skirt with block thigh high socks.

"Long time no see Nevada." USS Pennsylvania remarked.

"Same here little sis." Nevada replied, drawing a scrawl from Pennsylvania. "So what are you doing here… and where is here anyways?"

"Same as you sis." Oklahoma replied. "We heard mom calling."

"You are going to answer her right?" Pennsylvania replied. "I mean if _she's_ calling us…"

"Noted Pennsy." Nevada grumbled knowing she was right. "I guess we should get moving then."

"After you sis." Oklahoma replied as the three began walking towards the sound of their mother's voice. 


	25. Chapter 25

The Midway Princess smiled as her meager fleet joined with her sister's reinforcements as the fleet sailed past her atoll. Consisting of two battleships, two heavy cruisers, four light cruisers, and twelve destroyers, it was the largest she had ever commanded. She knew this fleet came with a price. Her sister's wraith should she fail was something Midway preferred not to think about, but it was nice to wield such immense power.

It would take them at least three days to get into position if all went as planned, more than enough time to for the insects and their defenders to muster a force to counter it. In fact that was what she was planning on. This mighty fleet was nothing but pawns in the grand scheme of thing, a distraction meant to by time for the killing blow to get in place.

She smiled as she turned around, watching the two Fuso sisters gracefully slip into the water. Unlike the fleet heading south, the pair would be skirting the island chain from the north, undetected if all went to plan.

"You here to see sister and I off Midway-san?" Yamashiro cheerfully asked, noticing the princess's approach.

"Of course Yamashiro." Midway replied. "What kind of a patron would I be if I didn't bid my protegés bon voyage?"

"I would prefer the patron that would provide us with a proper destroyer screen." Fuso muttered under her breath, eliciting a glance from her sister.

"Sister…" Yamashiro cautiously warned, only for Midway to put a hand on her shoulder.

"You sister's complaints are warranted Yamashiro, and if stealth wasn't a crucial aspect of this operation I would agree to provide you with the escorts you desire. As it stands though, I don't have enough forces to protect you from the attention they would draw to you. With your small size and the American's attention being focused on the diversion to the south, they won't know you're at their gates until your shells rain fire down on them."

Fuso tried to give a smile at Midway's reassurances, but Midway could still see her nervously biting her cheek. Not wishing to waste another moment of the night, two stepped off Midway's shore and into the inky darkness.

Midway smiled as her two compatriots disappeared from view. That island fortress had been a thorn in her side for far too long, and with the help of her two lieutenants she would finally be pulling it out for good.

-

"North." A tired looking South Carolina shouted as North walked down the ramp of the C-130 that taken her back to Pearl. "How was San Diego?"

"Painful." North replied, rubbing the left side of her abdomen. "I don't think the torpedo I took in September of 42' even hurt as much. Medusa and her fairies are real miracle workers though."

South nodded in agreement. "Both her and her sister Vestal. I thought you were back a couple days ahead of schedule when I first saw the report Medusa sent us. You make any new friends there, maybe meet a nice boy?"

North let out a choked cough at her mother's words, eliciting a giggle from South. "I met a few of the Japanese destroyers." She replied choosing to ignore the last part of South's remark. "They seem like good kids."

"I am glad to hear you say that North." South responded. "Convincing the rest of the returning girls that they can trust their Japanese counterparts has not been an easy task for me."

"They'll come around." North replied putting an arm around her mother. "I took me a few years after the fighting stopped to settle down, same thing for all of us who made it past the purge… well, except for those that got loaned to Japan."

South sighed. "I hope you're right North, because unless things drastically change we're going to need their help to retake the Pacific."

"So anything happen while I was gone?" North asked as the two made their way to a waiting Humvee. "I didn't see anything on the news channels while I was stuck in dry dock at Dago."

South shook her head. "We've been using the Submarines and airstrikes from the mainland to keep the Midway Princess contained. Bowfin, Mingo, and Barb managed to sink nine ships between them on their last sortie."

"So how come you look like you just got done running a convoy to Japan and back. I can't imagine secretary duty would be that bad."

"Clearly you've never had that role." South responded after a tired giggle. "The destroyers can get rather… creative in their need to relieve boredom, and the amount of paper work can get rather tiring. I've also had some… personal issues to deal with too."

"Wee Vee?" North asked, causing South to stop in her tracks. "I was in the same car as her when you two got into that argument, and that was just about you going to Pearl. I can't imagine how insufferable she's become with you taking my spot at the base while I was being fixed up."

"She has her reasons for worrying about me North, and I can't say she isn't wrong in her concerns." South chided. "And it's more than just her. A couple weeks ago Argonaut showed me somethi- Is everything alright corporal?" She asked, both their attentions drawn to the Humvee that had just pulled in front of her.

"Sorry admiral, but you're needed back at the command center this instant." The young marine said. "I'm to take you there after we drop of the commander at the Cassin Young. The admiral just called, told me something big had come up and that he would explain on the way."

"Okay." South replied, a sudden look of dread in her eyes as they entered the back of the Humvee. As soon as they were seated the screen in front of them lit up.

"Admiral, Commander. Sorry about interrupting your reunion, but there's an Abyssal force heading straight for Pearl." The screen changed to show the video of feed from one of the drones.

Norths eyes went wide as she watched a force at least twice the sized of the one she had faced down a month ago fill the screen. "How close are they?"

"700 miles out and closing." Enfield replied, causing North to gasp.

"Pardon me for asking sir, but how the hell did we let them get that close without anyone noticing?"

"We didn't North." Enfield responded. "We've been tracking this fleet for the last day and a half, but up until thirty minutes ago it was on a heading that took them straight to Panama. We're already moving both the V-boats and the Gatos into position to slow them down, but you and the rest of the girls to stop them for good. You and rest of the girls will be deploying with the USS Cassin Young. She'll be both your ride into and out of the ambush point, and providing much needed fire support for you."

"Sounds good sir. What's the plan for dealing with the enemy fleet?"

"I'll leave the battle plan for the cruisers and destroyers to you commander, If everything goes right the enemy fleet will be entering the effective range of Young's railgun just as daylight breaks. Prior to that though, The submarines are going to set up an couple of ambushes to whittle them down."

South watched as the gears began to turn in her head. "Can I make a suggestion sir?"

"I'm all ears commander."

"Have Argonaut break off from the others get her into a spot where she can drift those mines she has into the abyssal fleet."

"Mines?"

"Yeah. She was originally a minelayer sir. Did you ever wonder why she has the SM moniker rather than the SS that all the other subs have? If she has her original hull, the girl should be packing almost 40 of the things on her."

"I swear I learn something new about you girls every day." Enfield responded. "I'll see what can do about Argo. Contact me once the Cassin Young gets into position."

"Will do sir." North replied as the Humvee rolled to a stop. "Well, it looks like this is my stop." She told South, pointing space age ship just outside the vehicle.

"Stay safe." South replied. "I'd really hate to have to see you sent back to San Diego right after you just got back from there."

"Don't worry mom." North replied. "If everything goes right I'll be back home for dinner."

"I expect you to uphold that promise." 


	26. Chapter 26

"So how much longer are we going to be stuck on this tin can?" Augusta grumbled as she, North Carolina, Sullivans, and Kidd made their way to the Cassin Young's Ops center.

"We still have over five hours before we even get to the fifty-mile mark set for Cassin's railgun, never mind the max range for our own artillery." North responded. "Why don't you grab some shuteye?'

Augusta smirked. "Too excited thinking about those abyssal just waiting for us to stick a boot up their asses and kick them back to where ever they came from. Besides, I can't go anywhere without every sailor on this target barge looking at me like they want to punch me in the face."

"Maybe that's because you can't go five sentences without insulting their ship." Sully grumbled while rolling her eyes.

"Not my fault they can't handle the truth that their precious steel hulls are obsolete target barges destined for the scrap yard." Augusta replied, turning around. "It's like the battleship admirals back in the 30's and early 40's. They see history passing them by and are desperately grabbing on hoping it'll… crap!" Sully and Kidd burst out laughing as the inattentive cruiser's foot caught the raised bottom edge of the doorway, sending her careening to the floor.

"Are you okay ma'am?" A passing sailor asked as she moved to help cruiser back onto her feet. "You have to be more careful ma'am. This tin can likes to remind people who's really in charge when they're on her decks, especially when their talking shit about her crew."

"I'll try to remember.' Augusta grunted as she was hauled to her feet.

"Thanks for the help sailor…" North found herself stopping dead in her tracks as she looked at Augusta's helper. Standing at just a hair under six feet in height, she sported the SWU's, vest, and helmet of the ships Visit, Board, Search and Seizure team in addition to a radio pack and comsat on her wrist. From beneath her Helmet sprouted a ponytail that matched the woman's hazel eyes. Most puzzling, in place of her name and rank North only saw a patch that read "DD-1006."

"Young, ma'am." The sailor responded, giving North a wink as she did so. "You four might want to hurry to the ops center. The Gatos are about to start their attack run. At least, that's what it sounds like." With that the sailor ran past the group, not so discretely receiving high fives from Sully and Kidd. Heading in the other direction, the four soon arrived at the ops center.

"Morning commanders." The watch officer replied as they entered the room. "You're just in time to see the fireworks. The Gatos are about to start their attack run."

"One of them is a Balao," Kidd corrected him. "But same difference."

The watch officer simply before turning his attention back to the monitor. "Ma'am," he asked a couple minutes later. "Is it just me or are your girls looking like they're going to sail straight into the heart of the fleet?"

"Yes, they are lieutenant." North replied with a smirk, only to have it replaced with her own look a disbelief. "Lieutenant, is it just me, or are there four Los Angeles' with them?"

"Two of them are the Flight III block's ma'am, but yes they are." The watch officer responded before taking a sip of his coffee. "Ma'am?"

"Yes Lieutenant?"

"Sub commanders are fucking crazy."

"Oh, what a night!" Bowfin heard Barb shout at the top of her lungs. "What a lovely, lovely night!"

"Can it Barb." She whispered, silently cursing who ever had shown her half-sister Fury Road. "Are you trying to get the entire fleet to notice us?"

"Sis," Barb nonchalantly replied. "If they haven't spotted us on radar by now, they deserve the torpedoes we're going to spitroast down their throats and up their asses."

"She's kind of right." Mingo chimed in.

"Fine." Bowfin grumbled. "But I swear if you so much as whisper 'Witness me'..."

"Got it sis." Barb replied, noticeably quieter. "Hey, you two see those two destroyers up ahead of us?"

"Yep." Mingo responded. "There's no way we're going to be able sneak past them, so who wants to waste their shots taking them down?"

"We don't have to Mingo." Bowfin replied with a smile. "That's why we brought our big brothers with us. You gentlemen to open a whole for us?"

"The fish are already in the water, commander." Came the response over the radio. "Ten seconds to impact on both targets."

Silently counting down the seconds, Bowfin could hear Mingo praying that their plans and jerry-rigged fixes would work.

Roughly half the torpedoes ran too deep, their operators misjudging the draft of their targets. Passing underneath the destroyers, they continued on as their guide wires were cut. The other four struck home as their operators learned from the other's mistakes. One destroyer's midsection rose as a torpedo slammed into its bottom, the force of the explosion picking it up only for gravity to slam back it back into the water. Carved in two, the pieces rapidly sank to the bottom of the ocean. Its compatriot lasted even less time as three explosions erased it from existence.

Speeding past the wrecks as their escorts slipped off into the darkness, the trio was soon amidst their prey. Splitting off from each other, they began hunting for their targets amidst the disorganized fleet. Bowfin watched as a light cruiser charged down Barb, only to receive a broken nose for its effort as the Gato fired a torpedo right down her bow.

Searching for her own targets, Bowfin's eyes soon settled on a heavy cruiser and a battleship attempting to escape. She bit her lip, knowing that as much as she wanted sink both of them, she had to ensure that her torpedoes put that battleship out of commission. That cruiser would be cannon fodder come morning, with North only requiring a single salvo to put it out of its misery. And that blow would be struck far sooner without those battleships around.

Sneaking along the surface of the water, she smiled as she got into position and let her torpedoes lose a mere thousand yards from her unsuspecting prey. If the battleship every seemed to realize the destruction headed its way, it never tried to avoid it. Seconds later, she watched as five of her torpedoes found mark, tearing through its meager torpedo defense and gutting its interior spaces. Its machinery areas flooded, the battleship ground itself to a halt. Already developing a noticeable list as Bowfin shot past and up to the surface, the sub knew she had scored the fatal blow even as shells from its escort landed all around her.

Throwing her last two torpedoes at the cruiser, she sped out of what was left of the formation without recording if they hit. Putting as much distance between herself and the fleet as she could, Bowfin waited for her sister to meet her after their attacks. After what seemed like ages, two familiar forms swam up to her.

"That was awesome!" Barb shouted as she hugged her sister. "How'd you do sis?"

Bowfin smiled. "I put five into one of the battleships, and I'm pretty sure its going down judging by the list it was developing when I was passing it. Might have got the cruiser with the stern torps, but I didn't stick around long enough to confirm. Saw you take the bow off that light cruiser."

Barb broke out an ear to ear grin. "Yeah, that was a hell of a shot if I do say so myself. I tried putting the rest in that other battleship, but a heavy cruiser chose to eat the spread instead. How'd you do Mingo?"

"Sank one light cruiser and crippled another." Mingo replied with a shrug. "You two kept spoiling my solutions. I'd say we did our part tonight."

"Yup." Bowfin agreed. "Now it's up to the gun club to do their job."


	27. Chapter 27

"What the…" West Virginia said as she noticed the growing crowd huddling around the TV in Norfolk's mess hall. Muscling her way into the crowd, Wee Vee found herself standing next to the recently returned Intrepid. "What the hell's going on?" She asked the carrier. "And aren't you supposed to be training right now?"

"Well um…"

"We canceled flight ops." Lexington Interjected as she walked up behind the two. "I'm sure you seen how bad the winds are today."

"And you wonder why the rest of the fleet calls you prima donna's." West Virginia teased. "There was barely a breeze out when Mary and I were doing gunnery practice."

Lex just shook her head. "I doubt you'd be saying that if your shells went 180 miles an hour instead of 1800, and they had to fly back to you and land back in your gun barrels after they did their job. Besides, the Abyssals are making a push for Pearl again, and my little sis felt 'Trep should get a chance to see her soon to be new friends in action."

"Pearl." West Virginia nearly choked on her own words. If the Abyssals were attacking Pearl that meant her mom…

"Relax." Lex replied, seeming to sense the youngest standards fears. "North Carolina's leading the group defending Pearl. Your mother's stuck back at their CP, probably busy digging a trench through its concrete floor with her pacing."

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because the apple didn't fall far from the tree." Lex replied with a grin. "I understand though, trust me. If Langley comes back and tries to run combat missions with us, I'll chain her to what's left of Whiskey's old hull faster than you can say 'Billy Mitchell.'"

"Honestly Lex…" Her sister chided Lexington as she approached their little group. "We could at least try to talk to Langley first. I'm sure she would understand why we don't want her risking herself in combat."

"Because that worked out so well with South." Lexington muttered, rolling her eyes.

"So how are we even getting video of this?" West Virginia asked, looking to draw the conversation away from her, in the battleship's own opinion, insane mother. "If one of those new channel idiots is overflying the battle again…"

"You think the Pentagon would let them within a hundred miles of a battle after the beating the steal hulls took holding the line for us?" Lexington asked. "Your sister has an in with someone in The Pentagon, and they're sending us the feed."

West Virginia snorted with laughter. "Didn't think my sis would even realize someone was head over heels for her long enough to call a favor. I just figured Brooklyn threatened his family or something."

"I heard that." Came a voice dripping in New York City English from the front of the crowd. "And if your going to accuse me of something, at least give a little credit and avoid the obvious clichés."

West Virginia rolled her eyes, as the crowd parted enough for the three to get good look at the screen. "Hey, how come North's firing single shots?" She asked, noting the intermittent plumes of water peppering the Abyssal fleet.

"That's not North Carolina." A lieutenant standing near her responded. "They're at least 10,000 yards outside her maximum firing range. Cassin Young's supporting them, so that's got to be her railgun shots. Surprised, those things aren't throwing any evasive maneuvers."

"They can't." Another responded. "The Silent Service bloodied their noses real good between ambushes and one of the V-boats putting a minefield smack dab in their path. Wouldn't surprise me if a couple of them have damage below the waterline. Besides, at this range even Cassin's going to have trouble punching through the deck of that battleship. Now the cruisers and destroyers…Those are a different matter."

As if on cue, one of the two remaining light cruisers to took a hit right on one of its torpedo tubes. The combination of damage the 40 lb projectile caused as it tore through its decks and the resulting secondary explosion from it's own fish proved to be the monster's end, tearing it clean in two as a chorus of cheers broke out in the mess hall.

"Holy shit!" Exclaimed one of the younger members of the group. "Can't wait to see what North's capable of doing."

"It shouldn't be to long." West Virginia remarked as the screen switched to a video feed showing the blond-haired battleship and her escorts. "If my math's right, she should be entering her firing range any second now."

-

North Carolina smiled as the Abyssal formation limped into firing range under the watchful eyes of her spotter planes. After a harrowing night of ambushes and over an hour spent within range of Cassin's railgun, it looked to only be half the number that had first been spotted by Pearl's recon birds. And if FCS was right about it's calculations, that number would be cut down even further.

"Cassin, fall back a little bit until we can take care the battleship and the heavy cruiser." She ordered he lone steel-hull escort. "I'd hate for you to take a golden BB."

"Understood Commander." The destroyer replied. "Good Hunting."

"Thirty degrees to port." She called out to her escorts, turning just enough to bring her rear gun into the fight while still angling to keep her belt safe from any return fire. She heard her fairies call out range and speed of her abyssal counterpart, her turrets spinning on their bearings to match her FCS's firing solution.

"Turret one, ready to fire." The fairy running the turret radioed.

"Turret 2, ready to fire."

"Turret three, ready to fire."

"Fire." North felt her frame shudder as nine 16-inch shells tore through the early morning sky towards the enemy.

The battleship on their receiving end realized a minute too late that North had joined the fight, heeling hard to starboard as it desperately tried to avoid the salvo heading its way. The maneuver proved too little too late as two of North's shells slammed into its midsection, jamming its number two turret and gutting the bridge. Caring nothing for the escorts franticly trying to avoid it, the monster trained its remaining guns in the direction the shells had come from, determined to take its adversary with it.

North heard Augusta break out into laughter as the battleships opening salvo fell embarrassingly short of their formation, her second salvo already on the way to their target. Switching back to her spotter plane, North was rewarded with another series of explosions as at least one of the shells buried itself in the battleships secondary battery. Smoke and fire billowed from the monster's torn side as it ground to a halt and began to list hard to port.

It was the third salvo that proved to be the death knell for it though. A stationary target now, the battleship was gutted by no less than a half dozen of North's shells and torn apart by her own magazines in an explosion visible to North's own lookouts.

"Battleship destroyed. Switching fire to the heavy cruiser." She radioed, hiding the grin at how easy it had been compared to her last fight. "Range 30,000 yards, speed 32 knots." She added for the benefit of her radar-less cruisers.

Even with her input, Augusta and Northampton's first salvos were well off the mark. North's first shots weren't anywhere near the abyssal as it threw itself in radical maneuvers, its damaged hull straining as it danced through the forest of shell splashes. With each turn its bow dipped a little lower in the water, as the damaged bulkheads and buckled hatches gave way to the hammering walls of water. Still the cruiser pressed on, not realizing its very efforts to stay alive were sealing its fate.

Finally, the thing's keel couldn't withstand the punishment anymore, and with a loud crash it snapped in two. Driven into the surf by the cruiser's engines, the forward half twisted free form the stern and sank quickly. The stern soon followed as its open passages were greedily filled by rushing water.

"All heavy units are down." North reported. "Cassin Young, you're cleared to reengage."

"Understood ma'am. Engaging that last light cruiser."

Switching over to her scout plane again, North watched a hailstorm of shells engulfed the light cruiser as Cassin Young brought both of her guns to bear on it. Explosions rocked its deck, turrets, and superstructure as the Zumwalt's 155mm gun rained high explosive shells on it while the railgun provided the knockout punches. Within minutes the abyssal had been reduced to scrap metal in a display that left even Augusta nodding in approval.

"Good shooting Cassin." North said over the radio, a smile on her face. "Now let's finish up with these destroyers so we can all get back home."

-

Cheers erupted in Pearl Harbor's command center as the last cruiser disappeared below the waves. From where he stood at the back of the room, Admiral Enfield just sighed. Pearl Harbor, his command, had lived to see another day. The abyssal force had been defeated… no, obliterated was a far more suitable word to describe what had happened.

"That was too easy." South Carolina said as she watched the screen next to him. "They telegraphed that attack days before they made their move and blundered into every trap we set for them."

"Maybe Midway's getting desperate." Eric replied. "We have been hitting the island as hard as we can for the last month. She could have thought we were getting ready to invade and was trying to hit us before we could get our forces together."

"No." South shook her head. "Something's not right."

"Sir." On of the techs shouted. "The drones picked up on something over by Kauai."

As the feed was pulled up on the monitor, Enfield and South felt the room go silent as they watched the two figures on the screen. Both were clearly fleet girls, though none like anyone had ever seen. Dressed in the Miko outfits favored by the Japanese battleships, the two were devoid of color, with dead, unflinching eyes."

"Are those…"

"Fusos." South cut off the admiral. "And no, I don't think Japan sent them." Turning to face him, South's face did little to hide the fear she was feeling. "Whatever they are, they just feel… wrong." Without another word, she made her way to the door.

"And where the hell do you think your going?" Enfield asked.

South turned around, her face a mask of resigned acceptance. "We both know that even if North drops everything and rushes back here, those things will still have a four-hour gap to lay waste to this base. If I can engage them while they're still outside the harbor entrance,"

"They'll sink you where you stand." Enfield replied.

"But I can at least buy you time to get the defense ready, maybe even take one of them with me." South responded, a defiant fire burning in her eyes. "Admiral, just… just tell my daughters that I did this only because I had too, and that I wish this life had ended any other way than this."

"Understood ma'am." Enfield replied as she walked out of the room, knowing full well this would probably be the last time he, or anyone else, would talk to her in this life.


	28. Chapter 28

"Sir, Hickam airfield is reporting a flight of four F-22's and a pair of P-8's waiting on the tarmac." One of Enfield's aids tell him as he stared at a map of Pearl Harbor. "They're trying to get more aircraft available, but between wear, tear, and pilot fatigue. they're not promising anything else before those things reach the harbor entrance."

Enfield shook his head. "Tell them to start stowing the non-ready aircraft the best they can. A couple more bombs and ASW torpedoes won't be worth risking our entire air element because their ordinance and fuel wasn't secured. We'll make do with what's ready to go at this moment. Any word from San Diego?"

The aid shook his head. "Even if they had bombers in the air right now, they'd never make it here before the Battleships started their attack."

"Sir," another aid all but shouted as he came running over the admiral. "The airport shore battery is reporting an issue with the railgun generator. They're working to fix the problem but-"

"No guarantees that it'll be functional before the battleships get here…" Enfield finished, knocking his hand against the table in frustration. "What's South Carolina's location?"

"Blue Force tracker still has her in the harbor sir." Another aid replied. "Looks like she's over by the Arizona memorial." The sailor took a long breath before continuing. "Sir, you need to pull her back in here. The Fuso class was better than her in every way imaginable, and if she goes out there they'll sink her within minutes."

"She's also the only weapon we have capable of killing either of those two things right now unless the gremlins in that railgun decide to give us a break. Everything outside this bunker we're in won't survive having two battleships blasting at it at point blank range, and if these two act like every other abyssal force that has made a run at a harbor, we know that's exactly what they will do. If we can't stop them here…" He said, pointing to where the harbor entrance opened into the harbor proper before splitting around Ford Island. "They have complete run…"

"What is it sir?" One of the aids asked as the admiral went silent.

"Call South Carolina back in here and tell every battery that can pre-aim at the mouth of the harbor to begin dialing in on this grid coordinate here. I think I have a way to make these bastards pay for trying to kick in our front door."

By the time the rest of the preparations had been started South Carolina had walked back into the Command Center, her footfalls announcing her presence long before anyone laid eyes on her. Without a word she stormed towards the admiral, her body seeming to radiate anger as she approached him.

"Admiral." She began, her voice dripping with contempt. "If you expect me to hide in here like a coward as my daughters resting place is burnt to the ground…"

"I don't…" Enfield replied, cutting her off. "But I also know those things will cut you down well before you ever stand a chance of landing a hit, let alone sinking one of those things. I also know we have neither the forces to support you, or defenses in place to repel those battleships once they're done cutting you down. What we do have though, is a harbor entrance that makes a perfect ambush spot right here…" He said, pointing to a spot on the map. "Here, we'll be able to support you with shore based artillery, and at that close range your 12/45's will be able to punch clean through their armor."

"So how long do we have before they get here?" South asked, her eyes scanning the map as she did so.

"Three hours, give or take." Enfield. "Though we're going to see what we can do to slow them down."

-

Fuso and Yamashiro heard the jets long before their lookouts spotted the black streaks heading towards them. "Yamashiro, are you hearing that as well?"

"Yes big sister, I believe I do. I am not sure what it i- oh my!" Yamashiro's lookouts saw the incoming units first. "They are moving very fast."

"They really have invented propeller-less aircraft. Jets, Miss Midway called them?"

The two battleships watched as the F-22's nosed over into a shallow sixty degree dive. Their intent recognized, the call to action stations was given but their few antiaircraft gun crews were unable to ready their guns in time.

The sea around them churned with splashes of dozens of bombs as the fighters released their ordinance. Explosions rocked their superstructures and decks as bomb after bomb hit, smashing rangefinders, lighting fires and decimating personnel unfortunate enough to be caught topside or working in exposed positions.

Yamashiro's few surviving Type 96 guns fired into the air fruitlessly, their traverse too slow for the speeding jets. Wiping blood from her eyes, she looked towards her sister and gasped. "Big sister! Your hair!"

"It's, ow, ow, ow, all right Yamashiro." Fuso winced at the still smoldering flames on her back licking the ends of her long hair. "The bombs were very small." Yamashiro still looked at her sister with intense worry as her own damage control crews rushed to quell the flames on her clothing and rigging.

Before they could recover though, an even more thunderous noise filled the sky.

"Yamashiro! What is that!" Fuso covered her ears to try and deaden the reverberating roar.

"Are those... passenger planes?" Yamashiro pointed to both sides of her bow as the aircraft came into the view, hugging the ocean surface as they made a textbook hammer and anvil attack.

"A civilian plane doesn't fly like that!" Fuso angrily replied. "Shoot them!"

Black puffs of smoke sprinkled their flight paths as the battleships pitiful AA mounts put up what little defense they could. Either by luck or skill, one of their rounds struck a bomber's right engine. "Big sister! I hit it!" Yamashiro cheered as the smoking aircraft passed overhead.

There was little time for celebration though as the telltale streaks of torpedoes raced towards the two. Cranking their rudders as hard as they dared, the two attempted to weave through the spreads. Yamashiro cringed as one slammed into her hull, only to feel a tickle. "For such a big plane, they have small torped-BIG SISTER!" Watching a pair of geysers erupt from her older sister, the enraged younger Fuso could do little as the offending planes disappeared over the horizon.

"Big sister?" Yamashiro asked fearfully as the two slowed to give their damage control crews time to inspect their injuries.

"I am alright Yamashiro." Fuso reassured her as she wiped loose strands of singed hair out of her face. "Their ordinance did little in the way of important damage, though the loss of my rangefinders may prove problematic. Take heart though little sister. They threw hundreds of aircraft at Musashi to ensure her demise, now they only launch a handful of planes to merely wound us as we attempt to lay waste to their precious base. Even with their deaths at hand, the Americans still underestimate us" A wicked smile formed on her torn up face. "It is a mistake we won't give them a chance to make again."

-

South Carolina stood as still as a statue as she waited behind Hospital Point for the Fusos to walk into her range finders. She'd watched the fighters and patrol aircraft come into land after doing all they could to slow the demons down, grimacing as she heard the screeching metal of a damaged P-8 coming to a crashing rest on the runway. Now the job of stopping those… things was left to her and the artillery crews in the mountains.

"Command to South Carolina. The enemy battleships are entering the harbor entrance. Estimated position from you is two miles."

"Understood command." South Carolina replied. "Are the shore batteries ready to proceed?"

"Yes ma'am. Shore batteries will fire on your signal. Good hunting ma'am."

A serene calm washed over South Carolina as her crew counted down the seconds. She knew she wasn't going to survive this fight. Even with the help she had, there wasn't any chance she'd be able to take both battleships out before one of them could get a salvo off, and at this range her armor would as useless against their 14's as theirs was against her 12 inch guns.

But if she could take at least one down with her, maybe even both if she was lucky, or at least damage them enough that they'd be forced to stop there... If she could stop them from desecrating her daughters' home and their graves, it would be more than worth the cost she would pay.

"One mile and closing."

"All batteries, commence firing."

The thunder of over a dozen guns reached South's ears just as the first Fuso sailed obliviously into her sights. Catching sight of her out of the corner of its eye, the battleship pivoted as it tried to bring its guns to bare on her. The shocked look on the demon's face was the last thing South Carolina saw before the figure disappeared behind the smoke of her rifles and the geysers of exploding artillery shells.

Confident in the destruction her first salvo had brought, South calmly rotated her turrets, waiting for the next wounded battleship to walk into her sights as her crews reloaded her rifles. What she hadn't counted on though was the first demon to come screaming out of the chaos in front of her.

"S͟I͜͠Ǹ͟K ́́͞T̷O ̧THÈ͢ ͡B̶̵̢O͡T̨̡T̴̴͏O͜͠M̵!"

The battleship's front two turrets lay in ruins, their gun barrels twisted by the force of the explosions that had torn them apart. The demon's left arm hung loosely by her side, bloodied and mutilated almost beyond the point of recognition. A growing stain of oil stained the demon's torn open chest. Behind her came her sister, head and upper body torn by shrapnel from the army's guns. Almost as one, all eighteen of their surviving guns swiveled towards her as South frantically turned to minimize her profile to their barrels.

"B̷̡́U̢R̷̛N͜҉ ̡͞I̸͢N̨̢ ̴͘͝T͝͡H͢͝E ̷DÈ̷P̸̀͟T͏HS͏̛!"

The maneuver saved South from the worst of the fire, but she was far from unscathed. She felt her right arm lose all feeling as her rear battery was smashed to pieces and shells dug into the rigging on her back. Six inch shells dug into her skin, opening up gashes in her skin as the surviving guns of her own pitiful three inch battery plinked away at her attackers.

A hailstorm of splashes erupted between the three ships as South fled into the harbor, desperately trying to keep her mangled hull between the Fuso's and her daughter's memorial. Larger splashes arose amongst the pattering of the ships' secondary batteries as the bases artillery crews did what they could to help the old dreadnought out.

Less than a hundred feet from Arizona's final resting place, South felt herself shudder and her forward guns slammed back into the ready position. Pulling a hard turn to starboard, she swung her remaining guns around and laid her sights on the second Fuso, who had taken over as the lead ship in the formation from her wounded sister. _This is where I'll make my stand._ Her mind decided. _If they were going to lay one finger on my daughter, it was only after I have shed every last drop of blood I have left._

The demon drifted out of control as South rounds tore through her superstructure and turrets, opening up ghastly wounds in her head and neck.

"C̴͜O̵L̵Ĺ̀͟A͠P̕S҉̢͝E̡͠!"

Her foe's remaining eye glared back with an almost lifeless milky gaze the abyssal fought to keep herself upright, the creatures' surviving turrets struggling to maintain a firing solution on her.

"B͢R̛͘EA̷̡͞K͢҉̀!"

For a second, South thought she could win the fight.

"F̶͢Ą̧L̸͢͠L͡!̀"

The thought was erased by the smoke of her enemies' next volley. The Arizona Memorial disintegrated behind her as a trio of shells found their mark. South collapsed to the surface of the water as her boiler rooms were ripped out and her hull buckled almost to the point of cracking in two.

"D̛͜͢I̡SĄ͟͜PPE̶҉̧À̵R ̶W҉̧͟I͏̨T̛͡H͝ Y͡Ǫ̡̕UR ̸F͘A͡͠M̕͝ĮL҉Y̶̕͟."

Coughing up blackish red blood, South felt the cold water of the harbor pulling at her body as she was sucked under.

"Y͝͡O͠U͡҉͏ ͘W̨̕I̸͞L̵͝L͜ ̀͞͏F̕͝AL̴Ĺ̕. ̕YǪ̡̧U̢ ̴̨W̶I͏L̢̀L̸ ͞B͝Ȩ ̷F̛́O͏͘͝R̡͝GÓ̀T͡T́E͢N͞ ̛҉L̷I̴KE ̨͜Ù͞S͘.̶̵ Y͏O̷̢U̕ ̨͘͠W̧I͟L̡͞L̀͢ ̷N̵͜EV̴̨EŖ̷ ̕G̛͜O̷̷̧ ̡͡B̵̷͏A̕͟͟Ç͘K.̕͢͠ ̧́N҉O͟͜B͟ǪD̛͟Y ̧͜W̵̨I͝L̴̸͡L̸̀́ ̴͠R̨̛ES͝͝C̡Ú͜͡E̸ ͞͝Y͜҉O͜U̧͜͟.̵"

One of the Fuso's, her semi-conscious mind no longer able to tell the two apart, sailed over to her triumphantly and planted one foot on her chest.

"Y͜͝O̶̢U̕R ͏DR̸̛͢E̕͢AM҉̢͜ ̸̢S͟H̛̕Ą͘L ̕҉B̷́͞U̵̕͟R̴̀͘Ń͜ L̴I̕͟K̷̨͡E̷̶ ̸͘͜T҉H̨͞E͏ ̛S̛̛U̸̶RFAC̢͠E̷͡ ̢̢W̸̴͜O͏͠҉Ŕ̶͞L҉D̸͢.̴͘͢ Y̛ǪÚ̧͢ ͢A͏̷R̴E͡ ̧HOPÈ͡҉LE̶S̶̀͜S̷ ̀̀͞L̴̷Ì͠K͏E̵͡ ̶͘̕U͏Ś͡.̶ ͠DE̡͜ŞP͘A̛IR̴ ̷̕LI̷͞K҉̡̕E̡ U̕͞S͜,̶̢͘"

One of the demon's turrets swiveled into position intent of finishing her off for good.

"ÝOUR ̶P̧̛̛ŖI̕͘DE ͘W͢I̸L͡L ̴B̢͘U̶͠RN ̶̀ḐO͢W҉͢N̴҉ ͢TO͢͞ ҉͟ŢH̨͞E͜ ̨̕F̴RĘEZ̴̨͞I͢͠N҉G ̢̀W̸A̷T̷̨͞E̕͘Ŗ.̶ T́͠H͜Ę̸ ͝A̢B͝Y͞SS͢ ̵̕͢Ą̷WÀ̶͘IT͠S ͏̀͟YO͜͜҉U̧̡ ́҉A̢͠N͟D̢͜ ͞Y̶O̶͟ŲR̛͞ ̧͠D͜A͘U̸G̷H̢TER̷̵S.̴"

SIǸK̴̀ ̸̷A̛̛ND ̶̛͘D̡͢ISA҉PP̶̴͞E̴̢̧A͝R̨ F̴͡O͜͢҉RÈ͡V̶Ȩ̶R  
 _  
Forgive me Arizona._ South thought as she closed her eyes for what she thought would be the last time. _I wasn't able to save you again._

She expected the end to come as the crack of a pair of rifles thundered over her, only to realize she was still alive. Through blood-covered eyes she watched as the Fuso was thrown off her, another figure taking its place. Rather than turn to finish her off, the figure stared her two attackers down as the other Fuso helped her sister to her feet.

"Don't worry mom." A voice shouted in a southwestern twang. "I'll take it from here. They want round two, after all." 


	29. Chapter 29

Arizona watched as the normally peaceful waters of Pearl Harbor shook with the sounds of war. At the mouth of the harbor, she could see the churning storm of shells plunging into the water gradually moving closer to her. Even more shocking was the trails of blood the flowed through the conflagration, turning the water an all too familiar inky-black.

Through the murky and warped surface, she saw three figures approaching, trading fire with one another as they staggered towards her memorial. Soon enough, the lead figure came close enough for her to identify her, causing Arizona to gasp at the sight of her mother limping towards her.

The dreadnoughts' arm was little more than a mangled chunk of flesh and bone, the two turrets and attached rigging behind it reduced to twisted shrapnel by multiple hits. Smaller shell holes dotted her chest, neck, and head, with new ones appearing as her assailant's secondaries tore into her.

Still, she fought on. Turning around, she put one last salvo the enemy. Arizona cheered her on, only for those cheers to turn to silent screams as the abyssal return fire cut South Carolina down and wiped her crew's memorial off the face of the earth. Chunks of marble and concrete fell on her hull as the structure came crashing down around her.

Arizona was oblivious to it all though, her gaze focused on the mangled and sinking form of her mother as one of the abyssal battleships sailed up to her and put a foot on her chest, one of her few remaining turrets traversing to finish South off. Despite the distortion of the water's surface and damage her mother had inflicted on the demon, Arizona knew exactly who she was.

 _Fuso._ Her lookouts told her. A wave of anger fell over her. These were the ships she had been designed to fight, the battleships she had been built to kill. Now they were attack her home, threatening her crew… _Executing her mother._

 _Don't you dare hurt her!_

Arizona shot to the surface like a champagne cork, jumping out of the water in full rigging mere feet from where the Fuso stood. Racing over, she grabbed its turret and heaved it to the side, and forcing the Japanese demon off balance just as they fired their salvo, the shells missing South Carolina by inches as they dug into the bottom of the harbor. Before the abyssal could bring any more guns to bare, Arizona caught her with a left fist across her jaw, knocking the battleship back into its still-recovering sister.

"Don't worry mom." She told the barely conscious South Carolina as she cracked her knuckles. "I'll take it from here. They want round two, after all."

-

 _Don't you dare hurt her!_

Nevada, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania heard the cry as it tore through the black nothingness of the abyss. Almost instantaneously, a circle of light approached them, carrying with it the sounds of battle.

"Arizona." The youngest of the trio shouted as she heard her long lost sister's voice. "That has to be her."

"Sure sounds like it." Oklahoma replied. "Something must be happening at Pearl."

"You think so, I mean, why would she stay there?"

Pennsylvania shook her head at Nevada's question. "They never cut her boys out of her like they did with me after the attack, at least not during the war. And we all know little Ari well enough that she'd never leave those boys or her captain if god himself told her too. You both know we have to go help her."

"But what if another air attack happens?" Oklahoma asked, the fear evident in her voice. "If we sail into the harbor right in the middle of another attack like… that day."

"No…" Pennsylvania replied. "I hear gun fire, definitely at least a fourteen or bigger." She rushed ahead towards the light. "I don't know what you're planning, but I'm not leaving my sister to die again."

"Relax Okie, I doubt the people running the base now would let themselves get blindsided like December 7th." Nevada reassured her little sister. "Besides, we both know Pennsylvania's only good at pounding islands. She's going to need all the help they can get." With that she dragged Oklahoma to the circle of light. "Don't worry Ari. The Cavalry's on its way to you."

-

Tears welled up in West Virginia's eyes as she watched her mother's bloody retreat across Pearl Harbor to Arizona's memorial. Her worst nightmare was coming true before her very eyes. Her mom, cut down in battle against a superior foe, with no one able to help her. She'd known something like this was going to happen, she'd even told South Carolina herself that she would die if she was in combat again.

She hadn't expected the enemy she saw on the screen though. _Fusos,_ the very battleships she had helped put down in the Surigao Strait 80 years prior. Sure enough, it had only taken a few moments for her bridge crew to confirm who they were after catching sight of the six twin turrets and towering pagoda masts. Even with their stock rigging, her and her sister would have crushed the two monsters well before they got anywhere near her home. Instead, she was forced to watch as her mother, the only battleship they could beat, fought and bled to protect her home and sister's grave from their guns.

Behind her, she could hear her sister Maryland sobbing uncontrollably as Saratoga and the destroyers tried to comfort her. West Virginia knew she wasn't much better, the dent her hands were leaving in the steel table she was sitting on was more than proof of that.

"Turn that thing off." She heard Lexington growl as the group watched South Carolina crumple at the foot of the ruined Arizona memorial after the last enemy salvo. "Wee Vee and Mary don't need to see this."

"It's alright Lex." West Virginia replied, her eyes fixed on the screen as one of the demons sailed over to South to finish her off. "Better I see this with my own eyes now than read about it in tomorrow's paper. Besides, this isn't the first time we've had to watch part of our family die"

Lexington shook her head. "Damn it Wee Vee. If you would drop that tough girl act for five minutes…" The carriers voice trailed off as a mysterious figure appeared, tearing the Fuso off South Carolina and throwing it across the harbor.

For a few moments, no one in the room made a sound. Finally, it was Maryland, the battleship's voice back its normal cheerful nature, whose words carried themselves across the room.

"Uh oh, big sister Arizona doesn't look too pleased with this."

Watching as three more figures appeared on the harbors surface seemingly out of thin air, West Virginia felt herself breaking out into a smile. "Neither do Nevada, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania."

"I almost feel bad for those two now." Lexington said before catching the glares Maryland and West Virginia threw her.

"Don't," they said in perfect unison. "Whatever our sisters do to them will be a blessing compared to us."

-

Yamashiro's surviving lookouts had barely registered movement under the surface of the harbor when a mysterious figure burst from it and interrupted her sister's revenge, sending the damaged Fuso skipping across the water like a stone before coming to a rest at Yamashiro's feet. "SISTER!" Yamashiro scrambled to help her sister back up, ignoring the pain it sent shooting across her body. Once the two of them were back on their feet, they sized up their newest opponent.

The newcomer had clearly seen her fair share of war. Her caramel colored skin and short, shoulder length black hair was charred and covered in dried blood. The remains of a blue great coat rested on her a blood splattered cream color shirt, with her short blue skirt and cream-colored thigh length sock torn by shrapnel as well.

The girl's rigging on the other hand, was a new and pristine as the day she had been commissioned. Wrapping around her body, its four three-gun turrets and the secondaries that lined her waist trained themselves on the two sisters. "What... who is that?" Fuso groaned.

"It's a Standard, sister. A Standard! You need to get up!" Yamashiro shook her sister by the shoulders.

"Don't worry mom." The new combatant told the barely conscious South Carolina class battleship lying beside her as she cracked her knuckles. "I'll take it from here. They want round two, after all."

The two Fusos looked at each other before turning back towards newcomer, smiling. "Why yes, Yamashiro. Indeed it is. One we can overtake."

"We are at close range, and we outnumber her."

"One of us will survive, at worst."

"I would burn every last human on this island to ash for you, sister."

"And I would do the same for you, Yamashi-"

"You mean 'we'll take it from here," right Arizona?" Another figure, appearing out of thin air behind Arizona, spoke. Arizona chanced a quick glance back, a smile spread across her face as it turned back to the Fusos.

The second figure glided forward on black stocking clad feet, the open skirt of her brown and tan dress bellowing in the wind behind her, exposing a black miniskirt. Her rigging was almost the same as Arizona's except for the two-gun turrets that sat in the B and X positions. "If I were you," She said in similar twang, one hand brushing her bangs out from in front of her golden eyes while the other sat on one of the pistols sitting on her hip. "I'd stop aiming those 14's of yours at my little sister."

In the blink of an eye the two Fusos found themselves staring down the barrel of the second figure pistol, along with all ten of her cannons and numerous secondaries. "Right now would be preferable."

Fuso and Yamashiro's eyes went wide with shock. "Two on two is doable Yamashiro." Fuso's confident words belied her quaking.

"Yes sister, we're battleships of the Abyss, we can beat long odds." Yamashiro replied in an equally hopeful tone.

The two of them started slowly drifting back and away from their new adversaries. Yamashiro drifted towards Ford Island. If she could just gain a little more separation from her sister and get out of the new figures firing arc… Yamashiro jumped back as a pair of five-inch shells landed in front of her.

"And I sure as shit wouldn't be trying anything if I were you sweetheart." The newest figure replied, her stern turrets trained on Yamashiro. "I've got enough rangefinders to watch both of you, and at this range my turrets don't even need them to send you back to Tokyo."

"And if she doesn't spread you across the harbor." A voice replied from behind Yamashiro. "I will." Spinning around, Yamashiro found yet a third figure with short white hair leaning against an overturned hull behind her. She was immediately able to identify the woman as being from the same class as the blond-haired woman, the only differences in her uniform being its scandalously short skirt and knee-high boots. Much like the one called Arizona she bore the scars of war. The midsection of her dress was torn open to show a blood caked abdomen, with more blood coating her left leg.

The figure looked away from her as she lit a cigarette, her turrets making it clear that while the figure's gaze might have been directed away from Yamashiro, she was more than ready to put her down if she tried anything. "And between you and me," She said between puffs of her cigarette. "The three of us aren't the ones you two should be worried about… She is."

Both Yamashiro and Fuso followed her finger to where she was pointing across the harbor, their gaze settling on the fourth and final participant to join the fray. Dressed identically to Arizona except for black thigh high socks, the raven hair girl gazed upon the two with a fury both Fusos could feel even from that distance.

"Sister... it's one of them."

"Four Standards. Again."

"Remember me from Surigao strait?" She hissed, a hint of red flashing through her eyes as she did so. "Because I remember you, and you two clearly didn't take the hint. Glutton's for punishment, I'll make you remember!"

"Nevada, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania…" Arizona said, tears streaming down her face. "Our mother… Those two…"

All three of the newcomer's eyes turned towards where the crippled form of South Carolina slowly sank into the harbor, than turned back to her killers. For a moment, a lull fell over the harbor as everything went quiet…

And then the tranquility transformed into thunder and lighting in an instant. Fuso ceased to exist before she could even give her crews the order to fire. The focus of three of the battleships, over a dozen shell hits and numerous secondary tore her apart, leaving only strips of cloth and bits of steel where she had once been.

Yamashiro fared far better. Rolling away from Oklahoma's sights, she managed to avoid the worst of the Nevada's barrage, even scoring a few hits of their own that sent her attacker bouncing off the mountain of steel behind her as she fled towards the harbor entrance.

"Four Standards, including Pennsylvania. Must run, must get more help, must make them paAAAAAAHG!"

Her train of thought was upended when a pair of torpedoes exploded under her, take her legs off at the knees as they did so.

What was left of her came crashing back onto the harbors surface, clawing for survival. A harsh kick to her weak sides sent her tumbling over to her front. As the pain and blood cleared from her eyes, Yamashiro saw every Standard battleship standing above her, guns leveled at her.

"Damn... Another firing line of Standards. Damn fate. Damn American devils." Yamashiro wheezed. "We weren't finished. Sister Fuso shouldn't have died first..." She glared at them all.

"If I ever crawl out of the Abyss again, I swear by Inazami that I will make you and your country all pay tenfold for everything we've suffered through!"  
With her last breath, she spat blood at Pennsylvania. And then with a thunderous roar, her world descended into black. 


	30. Chapter 30

"Holy shit…" Medusa whispered as the remnants of the vicious fight that had occurred in Pearl sped below the helicopter that was transporting her to Ford Island. Shell-ravaged buildings seemed to ring the harbor as fire crews valiantly fought the flames spreading out from them. The harbor itself was inky black, covered in oil from the fallen and the damned. And in the middle of it all, like a pair of white cherries placed on top of all this destruction, was the shattered remains of Arizona's memorial.

For a brief second, Medusa felt herself slipping back to December seventh, watching helplessly as her crews fished oil coated men from the water as the Pacific fleet's battle-line settled on the harbor's bottom. She heard Oklahoma calling out with her last ounces of energy and willpower for the others to save the boys still trapped in her as she rolled over, her voice soon joined by Wee Vee and California. She jumped as Arizona's own magazines sung her death knell, burning pieces of the younger Pennsylvania class coming down all over the harbor.

"You okay ma'am?" A voice asked over her headsets intercom, the owners hand shaking her shoulder and bringing her back to the present. "You kind of zoned out on me for a moment there."

Medusa looked up at the flight engineer sitting across from her. "Yeah, just…"

"Thinking about the last war." The airmen replied, handing her a bottle of water. "I've seen that look before ma'am, taking guys out of hotzones and firebases in Afghanistan. And far too many times in the last few months. I can't even imagine what it's like for you girls, getting dropped into this mess after anything you all went through in your last lives."

"Well if there's any consolation for us, at least the food's a hell of a lot better now…" Medusa watched as the airmen fought the urge to laugh at her remark, while over the intercom headset she heard the chuckles of the pilots. "It's true," she defended. "If you had to live on coal and fuel oil for twenty years, even MRE's would taste like heaven."

"I'll take your word for it ma'am."

Medusa's eyes drifted back towards the harbor. "So all this happened in the fight?"

"Yeah, lots of shells being thrown around by everyone. It's a miracle the damage wasn't worse. I didn't see what happened personally since I was hiding in the bomb shelters with everyone else with half a brain. By the time they gave us the all-clear, the SWCC's had already helped The Standards load South Carolina onto one of their boats and taken her to Ford Island.

"Don't ask us what her condition is." The airmen added before Medusa could speak up. "We're only told to get a bird ready for ya."

Medusa shrugged as the chopper began to set down outside the command center. "Fair enough." Jumping out of the helicopter as soon as the wheels hit the ground, Medusa barely had time to thank the crew when an anxious looking corpsman in a blood-soaked uniform ran up to her.

"What's the situation?" She asked as they walked back into the command center, her mind already preparing for the worst.

"Honestly ma'am," The man, no kid, Medusa decided after looking at him, hastily replied in an exhausted voice. "I can't even tell how she's still alive, and neither can the Chief. I mean they told me in training that we were going to see some horrible stuff now that those things were around, but nothing they taught us even came close to covering one of you girls coming in here shot to hell like that."

Before he could say anything else, Medusa put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Just take a deep breath and tell me what you'd say if she was human."

"If she were human ma'am, we'd be more focused on making her comfortable than treating her wounds. Everything below her right shoulder might as well be amputated, it's easier to list what wouldn't be considered hamburger meat in her chest and abdomen, and even with all that bandaged up she's still leaking blood like a sieve. When they sent me out here to get you, they were just getting ready to try a blood transfusion."

The last part caused Medusa to freeze in her tracks, her heart skipping a few beats. "Who's in there?"

"The Chief, another hospital corpsmen, and the four standards. They only sent me to get you because I'm the lowest ranking person… in… the… room." The corpsman's voice trailed off as Medusa started into a dead sprint that ended only when she got to the repair docks.

The first to notice her entrance was Nevada, who was busy tearing another strip of cloth out of her now knee-length open brown skirt. "Howdy Medusa." The oldest standard greeted her. "South right over on the table there and…"

Nevada was cut off by Medusa slapping her hand over in the battleship's mouth. The repair ship looked at the others, who had stopped mid attempt to start an IV line between Arizona and the unconscious South Carolina. "Okay," the repair ship began in a far too calm voice. "Which of you geniuses thought this was a good idea?"

"Do you see how much blood she lost." Nevada shot back, pointing to the inch-deep of blood that lay on the floor beneath South Carolina. "It's not like we could have made things any worse…"

"Actually, you could." Medusa responded, barely holding back her anger over what was taking place in front of her. "Especially if you give a girl whose boilers are use to running on coal blood from someone that used bunker-C for their systems. You probably would have blown any surviving boilers she had."

"We were only trying to help. Our mom's dying." Arizona responded.

The blood splattered girl's pleading cut through Medusa's anger, causing the repair ship to calm down and rethink the situation. "Sorry." She said after taking a quick breath. "I forgot you four just got back."

"You'll want to give me some space to work." She added, the human portion of her audience taking that as their cue to leave with the four battleships following soon after. As they passed her, Medusa noticed Oklahoma limping as Pennsylvania helped support her, the girls left leg covered in a sizable bandage. "If you're hurt Oklahoma, you can stay."

"No." The standard replied, gritting her teeth as she tried to smile through the pain. "It's only a snapped propeller shaft. I'll survive a few hours hobbling around."

Medusa rolled her eyes as Oklahoma hobbled toward the door. "Just make it back here when I call. If your DC crews do know what they're talking about and you're right about that injury, it won't take me long to set that leg."

"I'll make sure she gets back to you." Nevada called from outside the door. "We're gonna need every ship we can get if the Japs come knocking again."

Choosing to ignore the last part of Nevada's comment, Medusa went to work on peeling off South Carolina's bandages as the door closed behind her. "Okay South Carolina." She said as the first stripes of linen came off. "What the hell did you do to yourself this time."

-

"Do you think we did enough?" Arizona asked Nevada as the four standards waited in the hallway outside the repair docks. "Medusa seemed angry back there."

"Don't worry about her, Ari." Her older step sister replied, putting an arm around her. "She was just pissed off because we didn't follow her precious little instruction manual."

"She might have had a point about the fuel oil though," Pennsylvania chimed in as she wiped a few drops of blood off her glasses. "But it's not like we had any better options."

"South's boilers could have handled Bunker-C just fine." Oklahoma protested. At that moment a deep rumble could be heard throughout the hallway as all four of their stomachs rumbled in unison. "Speaking of fuel oil," she added a little sheepishly. "We should probably see about fueling up. I don't know about you three, but I'm starving."

"Maybe I can help you four with that." A voice said from down the hallway. Turning as one, the four battleships saw a woman in a navy-blue overcoat walking up to them.

"And you would be?" Nevada asked, noticing the new figure wasn't wearing a uniform.

The figure just smiled. "My names Elizabeth Enfield. I'm the wife of admiral in charge of this naval base…"

"Sorry ma'am, I didn't mean no disrespect." Nevada backpedaled as fast as she could, remembering all the stories her old officers had told of those unfortunate enough to disrespect an admiral's wife.

"I know that." Elizabeth said. "I also serve as the caretaker for girls like yourselves. I understand the first few hours can be a little stressful for you, especially given your return. How is South Carolina holding up?"

"She's touch and go." Pennsylvania responded. "Medusa's working on her now."

"That's good to hear." Elizabeth replied. "And it was a good thing you four arrived here when you did, you especially Arizona." If Elizabeth thought her words would fill the youngest of the four standards with pride, they did the opposite as she did her best to hide behind the rags of her great coat.

"You said something about food ma'am?" Oklahoma asked, trying to change the subject from the events of the day.

"Yes. If you would all follow me, I'll take you to where we're housing you. I was already preparing dinner for when the others get back and can have something ready for you four after you get a chance to clean up and changed."

"I suppose we aren't exactly up to uniform regulations." Nevada replied with a chuckle as she looked down at her blood-stained dress. "Lead the way ma'am."


End file.
